


Tranquility

by Caedes12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Explicit description of past rape/non-con, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Eighth Year, I promise, M/M, Not as angsty as the tags suggest, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, also not as dark/depressing as the tags suggest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-05-28 18:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 64,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15054905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedes12/pseuds/Caedes12
Summary: Escape to Hogwarts seems like the only way to get out of the Manor. With Draco's father in Azkaban and his mother moping, getting his NEWTs is the only way to get out of the house. He just needs to keep his head down, make as little waves as possible, and survive.**Warnings in tags and chapter notes**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will have explicit retelling of past rape/non-con. It is not detailed in this chapter but parts of it will be flash backed through out the story. Please do not read if you're on the fence. I'd rather you make the healthy choice :)

Draco had spent most of his life watching Harry Potter, so why he thought eighth year would be any different is a mystery. It’s not like he was doing much else—besides homework anyway.

He hadn’t really meant to do it; it was just a difficult habit to break. He would butter his toast and glance at Potter to see what he was doing, he would walk to class a few steps behind Potter, he would watch Potter in class to hopefully see him get injured. The reasons now made no sense as Draco wasn’t serving the Dark Lord anymore, but Draco did it anyway. Potter had gotten a bit taller, though he was still skinny. Draco noticed he hardly ever ate, and sometimes Granger would nudge him to eat more. He looked at ease when he talked to people, smiling. But Draco knew it was an act. As soon as Potter thought no one was looking, his face looked drawn and exhausted. There were bags under his eyes that didn’t seem to go away. He glamored them away most days, but Draco knew they were there.

The bravado Potter had in class used to annoy him, but now Draco saw it as a desperate attempt to be normal. He would do demonstrations in Defense Against the Dark Arts with an easy smile on his face, but he would sit back down a bit too heavy in his chair after. The new DADA professor liked Potter a bit too much in Draco’s opinion, she fawned over him. How uncomfortable Potter was with the attention seeped out of every pore. Draco was unsure how he didn’t see it before, but it was obvious Potter didn’t like being the center of attention.

It had been a bit of a lonely year, not that it surprised Draco at all. Perhaps that was why he spent so much time watching Potter in the first place. None of Draco’s friends had come back for eighth year. But then again, none of his friends were talking to Draco. They had to distance themselves from the convicted Death Eater. Self-preservation was a thing Draco understood. They also didn’t come back to eighth year because they would be fine with their family money and the limited NEWT education they had gotten the year before. Draco knew for sure now that he was in classes and up to his ears in homework that the year before barely had learning, unless perfecting the _cruciatus_ was considered learning.

 

Draco was glad things hadn’t gone back to normal after everything. He felt like such a vastly different person that he couldn’t quite imagine his life two years ago. Living in constant fear was a sure fire way to change your perspective. Being in an eighth year meant he had more freedoms than he ever had—he could go to Hogsmeade any day he wished. He never went because he had imperiused Rosmerta, but he could if he wanted to.

When he had asked McGonagall if he could come back, he found himself being summoned to the Headmaster’s—or in this case Headmistress’s—office early in August.

“You are aware, of course, of your serious transgressions against this school. You brought in Death Eaters.”

“Yes ma’am.” Draco said. He was shaking slightly, looking down at his teacup. He wasn’t quite sure why he had agreed to come—but probably because he was desperate to go back to Hogwarts. The Manor—wasn’t really home anymore. His father was in Azkaban and his mother was moping. He wanted to leave everything of that behind. Especially after all the bad that had happened there. Too much bad. Draco woke up screaming many times. Long showers never seemed to run hot enough or go long enough to get rid of the grime.

“You can look at me Draco.” She said patiently.

Draco put down his teacup and looked up at her, “I did it for my family, so you can’t expect me to be sorry for it. He had my Mum. And it was my father’s fault for that—but I couldn’t—what was I supposed to do?” He shouldn’t have blurted that out since he wanted something from her, but it came out before he could really think about it. His temper had been an issue since—well since forever. He grew up a spoiled child, of course he had a temper.

She frowned, “Professor Snape—

“Never offered me an out. He just offered to do the task for me. He wanted to protect his duplicate nature from me, which is quite understandable seeing as I was just as likely to protect him as to march right up to the Dark Lord with the news so that my family could get out from under his thumb.” Draco let out a breath, “But Snape never offered me a way out. I was certain he was in it for the glory, not because he wanted me to get away from _him_.” Draco bit his lip. It was quiet for a bit too long; he stared defiantly at the teapot. Draco figured he should be done with it. Fuck it. He had tried. Maybe he could get in somewhere else and finish his school year. His parents had a house in America somewhere.

“I am sorry we failed you Mr. Malfoy.” She said, Draco looked up at her in shock, “it is my belief that as an academic institution, we should have broadened your mind. If we had tried harder at an earlier age—

“I’d probably be dead.” Draco finished her statement.

“Perhaps not.” She shrugged lightly and put down her teacup, “I will accept you returning to Hogwarts on a few conditions.”

“Of course.” Draco couldn’t help but let his heart speed up in excitement. He practically jumped to the edge of his chair.

“I don’t want any trouble out of you. One detention. One person comes to me with a whisper of you hurting another student, you will pack your bags.”

Draco nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

“You will take Muggle Studies.”

He should have seen that one coming, “Yes ma’am.”

“You will watch over the younger Slytherins.” He did that all last year, but sure. That wasn’t going to change anyway.

“Of course.” Draco answered, trying not to grit his teeth. His pride was in tatters anyway.

“Then I will see you September 1st, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile, “Thank you Professor.”

 

The golden trio wasn’t surprised to see Draco on the platform. Or if they were, they didn’t show it. However, not all of them got back on the train. Granger kissed goodbye to Weasley on the platform and Potter hugged him tightly. Draco had gotten his own compartment because everyone was too afraid to sit with him. He wanted to be happy about it, but instead he was just lonely.

 

Draco kept his head down in class. It was the easiest way not to cause any trouble. He couldn’t get one detention. Draco hadn’t made it through _one_ year without getting a detention, so he was very nervous about making it through the year unblemished. It didn’t matter how many stinging hexes were thrown his way, how many tripping jinxes. He wouldn’t retaliate. He _wouldn’t_.

 _Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid_. It was a mantra in his head he said over and over again for the past several years.

That and _you are not worthless_. But that was for a different circumstance.

He managed not to hex people back, and he made sure his charm shields didn’t blow the curse back on them either. He waited to be the last one out of the classroom so that no one would have the chance to bump him as he walked through the doors.

“Mr. Malfoy.”

“Professor Flitwick.” Draco looked up from his notes to the professor. He must have stayed a bit too long, he was lost in his own thoughts.

“Would you like a cupcake?” Flitwick asked, holding a small box with a variety of cupcakes inside. They floated out of the box with a wave of his wand, spinning in delicate circles as if to entice Draco. He couldn’t help the small smile on his face as they began to dance to a song only they could hear. He let out a small chuckle as they twirled around, reaching out and grabbing one.

“Reece Cup—good choice.”

“We had them in muggle studies.” Draco admitted, “I quite like them.” Flitwick grabbed the one with oreos and waved the rest of them into the box, putting on a preservation charm.

“You are doing quite well in charms, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco grinned, “Thank you sir.” He always thought he was robbed of an Outstanding in Charms. He thought for sure he had gotten an outstanding only to get an exceeds expectations. He took a bite into the cupcake and let out a small moan, “Delicious.”

“I’m afraid I can’t take the credit, I buy them from a small shop in London.” He was pulling off the wrapper around his own cupcake, “I wanted to ask you if you plan on doing anything with charms after graduation.”

Draco stuttered, “I-I don’t know. I don’t think about it much.” He couldn’t think about the future. He was just thinking about surviving the next few months. The next week, really. He couldn’t afford to get his hopes up. What if he got thrown out after getting a detention? Then where’d he be?

“You don’t think about graduation?”

“Not really.”

“Well, you do have some time. It’s not Christmas yet, but I would start thinking soon. What did you aspire to be when you were taking your O.W.Ls?”

That was when the world was different. When his life was carved into stone by his parents, “To run my father’s business. Which I am still expected to do.”

“What do you _want_ to do?” Flitwick asked.

Well that was a big fucking question. The panic gripped him almost immediately. He had a future his parents decided, one he knew what he _didn’t_ want, but no idea how to say it. Or even if he should say it out loud. Saying out loud was admitting it to himself, and then where would he be? Draco was sort of lost in his thoughts when something reached out and touched him; he practically threw himself backwards to get away. His body hit several desks and a chair as he pressed himself back against a wall. He could hear the breathing in his ear and a disgusting chuckle sound. _No_. _He_ wasn’t here.

“Breathe with me Mr. Malfoy.” A steady voice told him. It sounded calm, even if the voice was a bit shaky, “One, two, three—exhale two three.” Draco listened carefully, trying to match his breathing with the slow cadence.

“I’m sorry.” He started apologizing, “it’s—touch is—don’t.” He couldn’t quite get the words out; the panic closed his throat before he could.

“You’re alright Draco.” Draco couldn’t remember a time where Flitwick actually used his first name, “Just keep breathing.”

“I’m sorry.” Draco wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for.

“It’s ok. I actually went through training for students having panic attacks before school started.” Flitwick sounded sort of proud. He conjured up a small clock that clicked for three seconds, then changed colors and clicked for another three seconds. Draco followed the tempo of the clock, breathing in as slow and deep as he could.

“You went through training?” Draco looked up at him.

“Yes. Minerva had us work with the mind healer on staff to recognize signs of a panic attack, and other things too. Have you met with the mind healer yet?”

“No—my parents think it’s a bunch of nonsense.” Draco answered.

“He won’t tell anyone if you see him anyway, your parents won’t get a note if you go.”

“And if it’s a bunch of nonsense?”

“Then you tried it and know it’s not helpful. But I learned this from him.” Flitwick pointed to the clock, “So he at least knows something.”

“Fair enough.” Draco let out a slow and steady breath. He sat there for too long just letting his breathing even out. He knew he would be more embarrassed later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much about that. His pride was in tatters anyway, just add having a panic attack in front of Flitwick to his fucking long list. His heart rate was starting to even out a bit when he finally opened his eyes, “Thank you Professor.”

“You’re welcome Mr. Malfoy.” Flitwick waved his wand and the clock disappeared, “How about this? I’ll tell the mind healer that you’re going to swing by this afternoon, just to get some tips to help your panic attacks.”

That did sound like a good idea. Like going to Madam Pumfrey to pick up some headache medicine, “Yeah—yeah ok.” He nodded.

“Good, enjoy your cupcake Mr. Malfoy.”

 

Since swallowing his pride had turned out to be a consistently good thing, Draco marched his way to the mind healer’s office after his last class. He had the last period free, so he hoped no one else would be there. There was a comfy sitting room outside a small office. The large windows overlooked the forbidden forest.

“Mr. Malfoy.” A man stood in the doorway. Draco recognized the mind healer; he usually sat up with the faculty during meals. The man had deep set eyes, but they were no less piercing. They were such a dark color brown they almost looked black.

“Can I set up an appointment?” Draco asked, his voice squeaking a bit so he stared down at the carpet. He shouldn’t have listened to Flitwick, this was a fucking _stupid_ idea.

“Come on in, I have some free time.” He stepped back and motioned his hand through the door. Draco bit his lip and thought about giving an excuse, but his feet led him through the open door before he properly thought about it.

It was a stupid idea. He shouldn’t have come here. How was some guy going to heal Draco? After everything he had been through? After everything he’d done? Draco could feel his body start to panic again. He balled his hands into fists, trying to force the panic down.

“I—I don’t—I should go.” Draco made to move back toward the door.

“I’ll make tea if you stay.” He offered, “Sit, for a moment anyway.” He motioned to the couch.

“I shouldn’t be here.” Draco managed to say between grit teeth.

“Well you’re here now.” He waved his wand at a pot of tea and plopped down on the couch opposite of where he showed Draco to sit.

“Professor—

“Please, I’m Isaac.” Isaac moved a pillow as he crossed his legs, “Sit.” The couch did look comfortable, and with his heart racing—he needed a good cup of tea to calm him down.

Draco walked around the couch, “Professor Flitwick told me to come to help with—to help with—

“Your panic attacks.” Isaac finished for him.

“Yeah—he did the fancy bit with the clock.”

“Your breathing helps slow your heart rate, you can sort of trick the body into calming down again.” Isaac explained.

“I need more tricks.” Draco told him sternly.

“The best way for the tricks to work is to conquer why you’re having panic attacks in the first place.” Isaac told him, “But I think you already knew that.”

“I don’t know how you think you can help me.”

“Why are you so convinced I can’t?”

“I lived with the Dark Lord. I don’t think anyone else walking through your door had to live with that.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Fuck off.” Draco scoffed, “I’m the only Death Eater here.”

“But why would you think that makes you exempt from help?” Isaac asked.

“Everyone else here is—they fought _against_ him. They tried to stop him. Their horrors aren’t their fault—mine _are_ my fault.”

“That is a bit presumptuous isn’t it? Some of them were forced to decide between different horrors—guilt plagues them regardless.”

“Well if that’s true I’m absolutely fucked.” Draco slouched back in his seat, “If they can’t figure it out, why the fuck should I?”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of _should_. I think it’s a question of do you want help?”

“I’d rather not fall apart in front of another professor—so yes.” Draco scrunched his nose. The teapot started to whistle, so Isaac started pouring it out. He offered Draco a cup.

“What made you panic today?”

“Flitwick asked about after graduation—what I wanted to do.”

“The future.”

“It was a fucking insensitive question. Like I got my whole life fucking figured out. I just got the snake face out of my house, I can’t be expected to know what to do for the rest of my fucking life.”

“Why was he asking?”

“He said I was doing good work in charms.” Draco took a sip of his tea.

“His question doesn’t sound like it was coming from a bad place.”

“No—but I’m not allowed to have a future anyway. I have to marry a pureblood witch once I graduate, one without ties to the war of course. Then I take over my father’s empire.”

“That sounds like a future.” Isaac pointed out.

Draco didn’t look at him. He refused to say it out loud. _He didn’t want any of that._ He couldn’t imagine being happy like that. It would be living with the Dark Lord all over again—where you were screaming inside your head the entire time but had to look appreciative out side.

“You like charms?” Isaac thankfully sidestepped into a different topic.

“I love charms—I’m good with the delicate bits of it. It’s why I’m good at transfiguration too.”

“You’re top of McGonagall’s class.”

Draco smiled, “I know.”

“Is the questions about the future the only reason why you panicked today?” Isaac asked.

“No.” Draco’s lip trembled before he could help it. It was something he tried not to admit to himself. If he pretended it didn’t happen, then he could ignore it. He had never spoken it out loud to anyone, why start now? His parents didn’t even know, as far as he was aware, “I’m not good with touch.”

“Flitwick?”

“Not—no” Draco shook his head, “Like—I was panicking and he touched my arm and I—it made it worse.” Draco decided not to say that he practically launched himself backwards like a dementor had touched his arm.

“You don’t like to be touched at all?”

“No.” Draco shook his head back and forth a bit too harshly as he pulled his legs up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his shins.

“Your Mum?”

“She wasn’t a big touch person growing up anyway—neither one of my parents were—are?”

“Did they want you to come back to school?”

“My father is in Azkaban, so he didn’t say anything. My Mother is busy moping. I doubt she noticed I’m gone.” Draco bit out, glaring at Isaac as if it were his fault.

“That must be difficult—but how do you know what they want you to do with your future?”

“My father talked to my mother and I before he went to Azkaban. Said it would be best if we start rebuilding our name, to continue the Malfoy line.” Draco swallowed. That day had been horrible. He had sat in a small room in the DMLE. The paint was pealing off the wall in the corners and the whole place felt like despair. It didn’t matter then dementors weren’t in the Ministry anymore. They had twenty minutes with his father before they carted him off. Draco had cried the entire time and his mother had stared blankly at the table, nodding along to whatever Lucius said. Then just like that, he was taken out. It was like nothing had changed since he went to Azkaban the last time— _bring glory to the Malfoy name. Do as the Dark Lord says_.

“The first time he got carted off to Azkaban he told me to listen to the Dark Lord—that didn’t work out too well.” Draco said, looking down at his left arm. He had three shirts on today so one wouldn’t accidentally ride up and he had it wrapped up in an ace bandage. He didn’t want to expose anyone to it. He hated it enough and he had _wanted_ the Dark Mark. He couldn’t imagine what other people would think. The bandage was for—the bandage was for when things were too much. Draco _tried_ not to. He knew it was bad, that he wasn’t being healthy. But it was disgusting and it should be warped and _destroyed_.

“Draco?” Isaac called to him, “Can I call you that?”

Draco shrugged, “Fine with me.”

“What do you want me to help you with?” Isaac asked.

Draco furrowed his brow, “I told you, my panic attacks.”

“If you want me to help, you will have to face things that you don’t want to talk about.” Isaac told him. Draco appreciated the honesty.

“If that’s what it takes.” Draco frowned.

“You don’t have to do it all at once, but we’ll work through things slowly. Alright? I want to see you on Friday during this period.”

“You sure you want to help me?” Draco asked, glaring at him.

Isaac actually smiled, “Yes. Draco, I’ve been trying to get you to come to my office since September.”

“You have?” Draco pretended to be ignorant, but he had known. He just happened to misplace the letter he got inviting him to therapy, and he avoided eye contact. He was a professional at running away.

“You have been avoiding me.” Isaac told him, “You’re not the only one, if it makes you feel better.”

Draco frowned, “Not really, it means I caved first.” Isaac barked a laugh.

“I’ll see you on Friday then, and then we can keep this time on Tuesdays too.” Isaac told him.

“You want me to come twice a week?” Draco asked.

“Yes.”

“Is that because I’m more hopeless than everyone else?”

“It’s because I think you want to start conquering what is holding you back.” Isaac told him.

Draco scrunched his nose, “That makes this sound much more noble than what it is.”

“It is a noble idea, to face your fears. Regardless of how they became fears. Your past does not matter to me—it _matters_ in that I want to help you face it. But it doesn’t matter what you tell me in this room, Draco. It will never leave here.”

“Even if I say I hate all muggle borns and wish the Dark Lord would return?”

“Yes.” Isaac’s answer was immediate and strong. Draco was surprised; he turned to look through the window. It was quiet for a moment. Isaac had recognized a challenge and passed it, so he waited on Draco’s response.

“I don’t believe that anymore.” Draco said, still staring out the window.

“Which part?”

“Both—well I guess I never wished for the Dark Lord to return. By the time he was killed, I wanted him gone. But the muggle born thing—I don’t know if I ever really did. I mean, obviously when I was little—but I didn’t—my parents just told me it was true. I had no reason not to believe them. But I didn’t really know what muggles and muggle borns _were_. I just knew I should hate them.”

“It’s not an excuse, but it is a reason.” Isaac told him. It was quiet again. Draco could almost feel the panic begin to rise again. He needed to stop thinking about this, if only for a little while.

“I’m going to go to the library.” Draco said, picking up his messenger bag.

“Ok. I’ll see you on Friday.”

Draco nodded. Friday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco tells his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS!!!!****
> 
> This chapter has all the warnings I can possibly slap onto it. Draco retells how he was raped, with a flashback in the very beginning of this chapter. Includes description of Rape Induced Paralysis.
> 
> A panic attack is also described during this chapter as well as attempted self harm.
> 
> This chapter is heavy. Please use your discretion as to whether you can read it or not.

_Draco could smell the whiskey. It permeated everything. He turned his head away from the smell but it was still there._

_“That’s right.” He chuckled from behind him, “Fight me. I dare you.”_

_Draco couldn’t move. It’s like his body wasn’t his anymore. It shut down completely. He knew what was happening, and couldn’t get his body to fight. It was like he was trapped._

_“Just like your dad, fucking pathetic.” He grunted._

Draco gasped for air as he woke up. He cast a _lumos_ as soon as he could find his wand.

The room was empty.

He wasn’t here.

Draco scrambled to get up, practically sprinting to the bathroom. He put on the shower as hot as he could get it. His hands were shaking so badly it was difficult to strip off his pajamas. He couldn’t get them off fast enough. The tie on his bottoms was tied too tight and he yanked on them in his urgency to get them off. He barely got out of them before he stepped into the spray. His body was shaking so hard his teeth chattered, like he was freezing.

_I am not worthless_. He said it to himself over and over again, standing beneath the boiling hot water. He barely noticed his skin turning brilliant red. He wished he could stand there long enough so the grunge would fall off him, but he knew from experience that no amount of water would help.

Draco stared at the tile, watching water droplets fall down the walls until his alarm went off.

At least it was Friday.

 

“Draco?” Isaac called to him, “You seem out of it today.” He had been seeing Isaac for three weeks now. They had spoken mostly about how Draco wasn’t prejudice, but still had to work on it not being his first reaction. He realized it was wrong, so he tried to correct it constantly. He purposefully would stop, wait, and then respond. Draco liked Isaac’s easy demeanor. He wasn’t quick to judge, but he was to ask questions and poke holes in Draco’s logic. Isaac often reminded Draco to feel as well as use logic, that he couldn’t _reason_ his way out of everything.

There were still the big things they didn’t talk about. But Draco felt them circling and circling closer. Like a shark around its prey, Draco knew it would be soon Isaac would pounce.

“Draco?” Isaac said again when he hadn’t answered.

“Sorry, didn’t get much sleep.” Draco said, rubbing his left arm. He hadn’t done anything to it, but he wanted to after his shower that morning. He had on two undershirts, his Hogwarts button down shirt, a thin cardigan and a thick zip up sweater over that.

“Would you like to tell me why?” Isaac asked.

Draco glared at him, “No.”

Isaac moved his teacup, “I’ll rephrase— _should_ you tell me?”

Draco started shaking as he turned from Isaac and looked out the window, “Yes.” Isaac was quiet as Draco pulled his legs up to his chest, still staring out the window at the Forbidden forest.

“You can tell me Draco.” Isaac’s voice was soft and comforting.

Draco let out a slow breath. He should just say it. He didn’t want to, but he should. He should stop being such a fucking coward and just _say it_ , “It was last year when I was home for spring break.” Draco’s voice broke, he squeezed his legs tighter to his chest. He tried to take a deep breath, but he couldn’t quite manage it, “He was mad—he was so angry.”

“You-know-who?” Isaac asked.

Draco shook his head, but still stared out the window to avoid eye contact. His eyes filled with tears before he could quite help it, they burned from the effort of not letting them fall. He tried to bring his legs closer to his chest but he couldn’t quite manage it, “Rodolphus—my aunt’s husband.” It was the first time he had spoken his name out loud since. He bit his lip. _Fuck_. He clenched his jaw, “He found out Bellatrix was fucking the Dark Lord.” Draco tried not to let it happen, but tears squeezed out before he could help it. He still stared out the window, refusing to look at Isaac. His neck ached from how harshly he looked away, but he didn’t care. It looked beautiful outside. The sun was shining bright and the trees rustled in the wind, “He was pissed and drunk when he found me. I was hiding—” His throat caught and he choked down a sob, “I was hiding from everyone, trying to pretend I didn’t exist so no one would ask me to do anything.” He had been miserable. The Dark Lord had forced him to torture Olivander and a handful of muggles. He thought it had been bad then. Draco gripped his trousers tightly, pinching his skin a bit. He could do it. He could say it, “He—uh—he came into the room—I _tried_ —I tried to leave.” His throat closed up as more tears fell down his face, “He attacked me.” That much was true, “He’s a big—over two meters. I didn’t—I couldn’t fight back. My Dad’s wand was broken—the Dark Lord used it and it—it broke. So my dad had my wand that night.”

His voice squeaked a bit at the end. The lodge in his throat had grown so big he couldn’t swallow and he felt like he might throw up. Draco tried to take a breath but it came in short. He still couldn’t look over at Isaac. He kept staring out the window. The pain of his neck turned was a distraction from everything else he was feeling. Draco didn’t want to blink and see the mental image of what happened. Even now he could smell the whiskey, could feel the pain, “He threw me over the couch and forced himself in me. He raped me.”

Draco couldn’t believe he said it out loud. Nothing felt real. It was like he was telling Isaac in a dream. Draco _knew_ this was real, but it felt like somehow he was far away. He pulled his legs tighter to himself as tears fell without stopping, “I—I didn’t fight him. He was so _angry_ , so fucking drunk. I should have—I don’t know why I just fucking laid there.” Draco shook his head a bit, scowling, “It felt like it took him forever.” He wiped away tears from his face a bit too harshly, “I—I got hard. It fucking hurt and I just laid there like a fucking ponce.” Draco clenched his jaw again so hard it hurt, “When he was done, I left.”

More tears fell down his face, but he didn’t wipe them away this time. He tried to pull his legs tighter again, still staring out the window.

“Draco, I am so sorry this happened to you.” Isaac sounded like a pillow, his voice was so comforting and soft, “You didn’t deserve this.”

“I was a coward—like fucking always. I just fucking laid there _like a_ _fucking_ —” Emotion welled in his throat and he shut his eyes, he could almost feel _him_. His mouth watered like he might throw up.

“Freezing is a natural body response.” Isaac said, and Draco scoffed, “I can show you studies if you want. Freezing is a body response to danger, it has happened to many people. There are statistics—between 12% and 50% of rape victims experience tonic immobility. It’s called rape induced paralysis.”

Draco choked a bit on his tears, from trying not to sob out loud, “But I got _hard_. Who the fuck does that?”

“Getting an erection does not mean you enjoyed the experience or you did something to make it happen.” Isaac’s voice was calm and steady, “The body is sensitive, and there are nerves there that stimulate that response regardless of how you feel about it. I have talked to men who were raped that ejaculated. In a physical reaction sense, fear and arousal are similar. Both have increased heart rate, fast shallow breathing, and increased alertness are just some of the similarities. It does not mean you wanted it or enjoyed it.” Isaac said the last sentence slowly and carefully for emphasis.

Draco was silent, but his mouth opened a bit. He couldn’t quite believe what Isaac was saying—as much as he wanted to believe it. He wasn’t a freak? The first sob that came out hurt his chest as he desperately tried to stop it. When he realized he was about to sob in front of Isaac, he dropped his head down between his knees and covered his head with his hands. Sobs racked through his chest, and he could hardly breathe as he was curled so tightly into himself. The shame was still there, but he wasn’t _alone_.

“Draco?” Isaac’s voice sounded closer, “May I hold your hand?”

“Yeah.” Draco managed to say between sobs. A warm hand wrapped around his and squeezed it tightly. Draco was glad he didn’t touch him anywhere else, but holding his hand anchored him to the moment. His hands were calloused and strong—not afraid or disgusted by Draco. It helped remind him that this was real. Draco couldn’t remember the last time he was touched in a friendly way, a touch he was ok with. He wept into his knees until he couldn’t anymore.

A teapot whistling made him jump.

“Sorry, I put on some tea.” Isaac’s voice was just above a whisper, “Would you like some?”

“Yes.” Draco said, picking his head up. Isaac was kneeling on the floor in front of him. He squeezed Draco’s hand again, let go and then turned to the teapot. He poured two cups, giving one to Draco.

“It’s peppermint.” Isaac told him, also holding out a box of tissues with his other hand. It was difficult to breathe through his nose so Draco took the box gratefully. He wiped his face with a tissue, blowing his nose as he held his teacup in the other. Draco leaned back a bit, but kept his legs pulled up as he placed his teacup on his knees, “Have you told anyone about this?” Isaac asked.

“No.” Draco shook his head, sipping his tea a bit, “My parents both—they were going through a lot too. I couldn’t add to it.”

“Where is Rodolphus now?” Isaac asked.

“Azkaban—life sentence.” Draco whispered, “He has no possibility of parole.”

“You can still charge him if you want to.” Isaac replied.

Draco shook his head, “No—no. I don’t want to do that.”

Isaac nodded slowly, “If you change your mind, we can discus that. But it’s ok if you don’t.” Draco shook his head again. He could see the headlines now—Poor Death Eater gets Raped—HA! Let’s all laugh about it on Page 5, “Do you want to tell your parents?”

Draco shook his head a bit violently, “No. My Mum is already so—she’s so fragile. I don’t want to tell her. And my father wouldn’t care.” He let out a harsh breath.

“Thank you for telling me.” Isaac said. Draco felt oddly warm that Isaac was appreciative, so he nodded, “Now why don’t we ask the house elves for something to eat.”

“I’m not—I’m not too hungry.” Draco frowned.

“Nonsense. I’m starving, you have to be hungry—Riley?” A house elf popped into the room, “Can we have something for dinner?”

“Of course Masters, Riley will bring you something to eat.” He nodded profusely before dissaperating.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Draco said as Isaac moved to sit on the couch next to him.

“I don’t have anyone else to talk to anyway.” Isaac said with a grin.

“Is that why you became a mind healer? To force people to talk to you?”

Isaac barked out a laugh, “That’s an idea.”

“Did you always want to be a mind healer?”

Isaac shook his head, “No—definitely not. I wanted to be an Unspeakable. I wanted to study magic no one knows about yet, or weird magic no one understands.”

“Why’d you become a mind healer?”

“Couple of reasons. The first is because I found I was more obsessed with the minds that created the weird magic than the magic itself. Two, I watched a mind healer help my sister. And I like teaching people tools to help themselves.” Draco nodded, “But when I was little I wanted to be a fire fighter.”

“A fire fighter?” Draco asked.

“My Mum is one, it’s a muggle thing. They have alarms if their house catches on fire, then it dispatches fire trucks with fire fighters. They help put the fire out, since muggles can’t do it with a wand.”

Draco nodded, “I think I’ve read about them in muggle studies when we were studying muggle aurors.”

“You probably did.” Isaac agreed.

“I thought your Mum was a witch?” Draco asked.

“She is, but she works in the Muggle world. She’s a muggle born—and her whole family had been firefighters. Her dad, her brother, her uncles, her grandfather—everyone.”

“Did she go to Hogwarts?”

“No—she’s American.”

“American and a muggle born—my father would _not_ approve.” Draco said, then frowned, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Isaac laughed, “No, you’re right. Your father wouldn’t approve of my Mum. She is loud, crass and ridiculous.” Draco smiled, relieved that Isaac wasn’t upset. Just then Riley popped back into the room with two trays of dinner. They both had large portions of shepherd’s pie and crisps.

“This is too much.”

“Master is a growing boy, he needs to eat everything.” Riley said sternly.

“Thank you Riley.” Isaac said, and Riley cracked away, “I’ve gained weight working here.”

“How long are you going to stay at Hogwarts?”

“I don’t have an end date right now.” Isaac said, picking up his fork, “The board has an end date for me at the end of this year, but I’m hoping I can convince them to extend.”

“Why just a year?”

“They think people only need mind healing this year and can’t excuse to continue it. I argued being a teenager is traumatizing enough, having a mind healer on staff is indispensable. Muggle schools have counselors on staff to help.”

“Do you think they’ll cave?”

“If McGonagall has her way—which she usually does.” Isaac bit into his pie, groaning a bit, “This is so good—eat.” He encouraged. Draco dipped his fork into his pie, finding he was a bit hungry.

They talked late into the evening. Draco didn’t realize it, but he kept picking at his food and eventually ate the entire thing—and his crisps. He even laughed at some of Isaac’s stories. Draco couldn’t quite believe it when the clock struck eleven.

“Take the win today Draco. Telling someone about it for the first time is a big step. I’m not saying it’s all smiles form here—but know you accomplished something big today.” Issac said before shooing him off to bed. Draco had a smile on his face as he walked out of Isaac’s office. He was exhausted, but he felt lighter. He felt hope spark deep inside him. It was tiny, but it was there. He wanted to hold onto it because he knew he wouldn’t always feel it.

 

Draco didn’t go home for Christmas; he didn’t much see a point. His mother was upset, but seemed to understand. She didn’t want to leave the Manor, and he wanted to be just about anywhere else. Draco had tried to compromise and go to the house in France, but his mother shut down that one quickly.

Draco found it hard to not to be resentful when the castle was full of students again. Hogwarts was so peaceful during break, he had come to enjoy it. Isaac and Draco had tea every other day, and no one tried to hex him in the halls. He blamed Christmas break for letting his guard down. He tripped _hard_. His feet felt bound as he fell forward. He was holding his books, so he barely had time to drop them to shield his face. A loud crash meant he had taken something down with him as his bag spilled out everywhere. A hand guard from a suit of knight’s armor was lying next to him. At least he didn’t take down the entire thing. He heard snickering, so he purposefully didn’t look as he got up on his knees. If he looked, he would hex the bastard.

_Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid_. He grabbed a scroll and shoved it into his bag.

“Here.” Potter was in front of him, stooping down and handing him his transfiguration book.

“Thanks.” Draco grit out. He didn’t _want_ to say thank you, but even Draco knew the optics of Potter helping him were better than the ones if Draco told him off.

“Have you finished the essay for McGonagall yet?” Potter asked as he handed him a quill and another roll of parchment.

“Nearly.” Draco said, he had the conclusion still to do. Potter nodded, standing back up. Draco stood up next to him.

“Are you going there now?” Potter asked.

“Yes.” Draco answered—of course he was, Transfiguration was next. Potter pointed his wand at the young boy who had hexed Draco and cast a hair coloring charm. His hair turned a horrible puke green color. The kid didn’t notice until one of his friends pointed and laughed at him, “Potter!” Draco hissed, “Turn it back!”

“Why?” Potter asked, crossing his arms.

“You can go play hero for someone else—I _cannot_ get in trouble! Turn it back right now!” Blind panic built in his chest; he knew he sounded a bit frantic.

Potter turned to the kid, “You hex Malfoy again, and I’ll do worse than turn your hair green—got it?”

“He—he’s not allowed to hex me!” The kid cried out.

“He didn’t. I did.” Potter said with a shrug then turned back to Draco, “You ready?”

Draco scrunched his nose before stomping off toward Transfiguration, “I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I know—but you aren’t allowed to hex people.”

“Why does everyone know that?” Draco adjusted his messenger bag a bit as he walked toward McGonagall’s classroom.

“McGonagall said you weren’t allowed to hex anyone—one slip up and you were gone.” Draco scowled. Of course that woman would leave him open and vulnerable to attack, “A lot of people were concerned you were back, so she let them know.” Potter defended.

“Yeah, well I’m glad they can sleep well knowing I’ll be thrown out of school for defending myself.”

“You don’t think you deserve it?” Potter growled, “You used to bully a few of them yourself!”

Draco should have kept his big mouth shut. He shouldn’t have talked to Potter at all. Of course the obnoxious Gryffindor would sympathize with his own kind. Just leave Draco out in the cold, it’s fine. He was almost to the classroom, so he walked a bit faster. He could just _run away_ from Potter. Keep his head down. Don’t talk to anyone. Why had he broken that rule? He got comfortable with Isaac over Christmas. That explained it why Draco was so willing to open his _fucking_ mouth.

“Malfoy!” Potter growled at him, walking to keep up.

“I got it. What goes around comes around. Have a good lesson.” Draco snapped. His hand was shaking a bit as he pulled open the door and walked into the classroom. He took his usual seat in the front corner. No one ever sat next to him up there.

“Good afternoon Mr. Malfoy.” McGonagall said, writing on the chalkboard.

“Good afternoon Professor.” He was safe. Potter was still seething, but he stayed away. Draco sat down in his chair with a deep breath, slowing down his heart rate.

_You are not worthless_. He rubbed his left arm a bit. Merlin Potter was such an arse.

It’s not like he was wrong.

Draco wanted to shake his head, but he bit the inside of his lip instead. The urge to bite through got so strong that he stopped almost immediately. The class started to fill in, but Draco could barely think.

_You deserve this_.

He didn’t deserve friends. He deserved to be alone. He deserved to feel like he was going to throw up. He wanted to take his nails down his left arm— _anything_ to help him get rid of this feeling. Draco flipped open his bag to pull out his notes for class. McGonagall had started talking, but he wasn’t paying attention. When he opened his bag, he saw the copy of Isaac’s schedule _in case of emergencies._ He could almost hear Isaac saying that this counted—that if he even thought about it, he should go. Draco would just sit in the front sitting room anyway and wait until he was done with the previous student, so there was no real point of going anyway. Draco glanced at the schedule anyway.

_Lunch._

Isaac was free.

But should Draco go?

He was on his feet before he could really help it. McGonagall didn’t ask him anything—or if she did he didn’t hear it as he walked out of the room. Probably because she didn’t care. Draco was discrete, walking around and quietly out the back door. It was almost an out of body experience, like he had been imperiused to walk to Isaac’s office. Part of him wanted to go to his room and just saw his arm off—but he knew that was bad. He _knew_ that. He had to figure out something different. The door to Isaac’s office was open, and Draco walked inside without noticing much. He pushed the door closed and put his back into the corner. Draco plopped down onto the ground.

“Draco?” He heard Isaac say his name, but he couldn’t really focus on it. Panic took complete control, his breathing accelerated—he couldn’t really see. He pushed his back so hard into the wall it hurt. He kept leverage on his feet to push himself more into the wall, reveling in the pain. He yanked at his sleeves, pushing them up to his elbow and then ripped the wrap bandage off his arm. Seeing the _ugly_ fucking black mark against his skin made his mouth feel like he was going to get sick. Saliva pooled in his mouth, like it does right before vomiting. If he could just cut himself, this would stop.

“Don’t!” Isaac’s voice was strong. A sticking spell moved his hand to one wall and his other hand the other. Draco turned to Isaac who was on the floor in front of him, “Sorry, I didn’t know how to stop you without touching you.” He admitted.

“I—I came here because I didn’t want to.” Draco admitted, barely able to catch his breath, “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do and I—and I don’t” He wasn’t sure what sound he was making, but he was sure his father would slap him silly if he could see him now.

“I have an idea.” Draco loved how deep and calm Isaac’s voice was. It was like it cut through all the waves of emotion, “Let me get something from my desk.” He disappeared from view for a moment before coming back, sitting down on the ground in front of him. He waved his wand at Draco’s arms and they became unstuck, “May I?” Isaac asked, reaching out to it. Draco bit his lip but nodded, “You can tell me if it’s not ok, and I’ll let go—alright?” Draco nodded again. Isaac moved Draco’s hand toward him. Draco stared at the ugly mark on his arm, only made uglier by the self-harm scars riddled up his wrist and up through the Dark Mark. Showing someone else for the first time made Draco realize he was not in control of his cutting problem.

He squeezed his eyes shut, turning away. His eyes burned from the unshed tears and he wanted to rip his arm away. But Isaac’s touch was so soft and warm.

“When did you start?” Isaac asked.

“Sixth year.” Draco answered in a whisper, still not looking at his arm, “I didn’t cut the Mark though until after—after he died.” He wiped his face, trying to get the tears away.

“I think this might help—well, not when you get too worked up. Then definitely come to me, but when you’re getting worked up.” He held up a green marker.

“What?” Draco stared at him more directly. Isaac popped open the cap.

“I have been trying to think of something, then I remembered I bought these.”

“I—I haven’t talked to you about this.” Draco said with a glare.

Isaac looked a bit sheepish, “It wasn’t difficult to guess Draco. I’ve been doing this for twenty years—I know what the signs are.”

Draco scowled at him, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Isaac asked. Draco couldn’t really come up with a good answer. Isaac waved the marker in his hand, “It’s safe for the skin, do you mind?”

“It’s not permanent?”

“No.” Isaac assured him.

“Then go ahead.”

Isaac grinned, looking down at the Dark Mark. In green, right next to the skull, Isaac started drawing a flower. It was a rather childish attempt, but he gave it long petals that stretched over the Dark Mark. When he finished the first, he then started drawing a second one right below it. He crisscrossed the petals.

“Drawing flowers is your idea?” Draco asked, incredulous.

Isaac smiled up at him, “But imagine how much he would _hate_ it.” Draco couldn’t help but laugh. It sounded almost like a sob, but it was still a laugh. He rubbed his hand over his face again, “Here.” Isaac waved over the box of tissues, which Draco snagged out of the air. Isaac handed him a pink marker, “It has sparkles in it.”

That made Draco snort. He uncapped the marker, he bit his lip for a moment before drawing a flower of his own. The methodic pattern of making the same flower over and over again helped Draco to relax.

“Is this why you wear so many layers?” Isaac asked.

Draco nodded, adding small details to one of his flowers, “Yes. I get nervous if one of them rides up. I don’t want to see it, let alone anyone else.” He started drawing another flower, his hand shaking a bit.

“And the ace bandage?” Isaac asked.

“Covers it up and helps if I am bleeding.” Draco answered. Saying it out loud made Draco realize even _more_ how out of control his cutting had gotten. No one else changes their outfits based on wounds, “I—I know it’s not a good thing, but it’s—it makes me feel like I can calm down.”

“Self harm is a form of addiction.”

“Great. So I’m an addict on top of everything else!” Draco cried out.

“Not like that.” Isaac shook his head, focusing on a flower he was drawing, “Keep drawing.” Draco frowned, but continued, “For some people it’s cake, other’s it’s running—everyone has their emotional dependencies. We just have to find a different one for you.”

“Like this?”

“Yes—but also other things.” Isaac said, adjusting his legs a bit, “I know someone who loves to bake.”

“Instead of self harm?” Draco asked quietly. He wanted to know he wasn’t alone.

“Yes. She makes lovely tarts—her pastries are perfection. She hasn’t self-harmed in years.”

“That’s wonderful.” Draco couldn’t help but say it. He didn’t _want_ to do this. It just felt necessary. He wanted to hear about light at the end of the tunnel—to know he could stop, “is that what—you gave me a piece of a tart over Christmas—

“Yeah! That’s hers—Lindsey is her name.” Draco nodded his head.

“What do other people do?”

Isaac let out a breath, “Oh all sorts of things. Some like to work out, a guy I used to work with likes to do puzzles, crosswords and word problems. He likes the challenge and it gets his mind off of it.”

“But when I get really worked up?”

“Come to my office—whatever time of day or night, I’m here.” Draco nodded, “Draco?”

“Hm.”

“I am proud of you for coming here. You could have run away, and you didn’t. This was very brave of you.”

Tears came to Draco’s eyes before he could help it. He swallowed and nodded, “Thanks for helping.”

“What triggered this?” Isaac asked.

“Potter.” Draco said with a scowl.

“Ah yes. The infamous Malfoy-Potter rivalry.” Isaac grinned, he had heard Draco tell more than one story about Potter over the past few months, “What happened?”

“I was hexed. I didn’t have my shields up between classes like I usually do. I guess Christmas filled my brain with fluff. I fell. Potter helped me get up and hexed the kids hair who did it.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Bloody fucking idiotic of him.” Draco snapped back, “What if the kid told McGonagall I had done it? I’d be out of here!” Draco practically yelled.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t think it through.” Isaac’s cadence was slow, it calmed Draco down instantly. He relaxed a bit, leaning back against the wall.

“Sorry—I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“You’re alright, continue your story.”

“A-fucking-parently everyone knows I’m not allowed to hex back because _McGonagall told them_. In the interest of letting everyone relax about me returning to school, she let them all know I was under her eye. Which is what I told Potter—who said I deserved being attacked since I was a bully. I walked away from him and sat in class and then I couldn’t breathe—so I came here.”

“How many times do you throw off hexes a day?” Isaac asked, looking straight at Draco. His brown eyes were sharp.

“Four—maybe five? Honestly it’s mostly fourth and fifth year hexes. And if I can’t defend myself against those, I really should just give up.” Draco shrugged. They had drawn flowers up to his elbow now and were running out of space.

“I really should tell McGonagall about this.” Isaac told him, “I won’t, because I know you’d hate me for it—but you shouldn’t have to deal with this Draco.”

“It’s much better than being home.” Draco said soundly, glaring at him a bit, “And it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.” Isaac pointed out, “School is supposed to be a safe place.”

“I’m not worried about them.” Draco said with a shrug.

“Well, just know I’m not telling McGonagall, but I’m under protest.” Isaac said and Draco laughed a bit.

“Noted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Tumblr as Caedes12. Please come say hello or come chat with me! I write my behind the scenes thoughts. 
> 
> The statistic about Rape Induced Paralysis is taken from the I Am Evidence documentary on HBO. Definitely worth a watch. Statistics in this field are difficult to acquire since so many rapes are not reported. Statistics on male victims are even more scarce.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interaction with Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings in particular on this chapter.

Draco reached over one of his books and grabbed a piece of parchment. He had a nice little set up in the library. His wards were up again. A stinging hex nailed him when he first started working in the library in September. It only took once for him to remember to put up a few charms.

He was only wearing two shirts today and no ace bandage. Draco had been working with Isaac over the last three weeks. And while he certainly wasn’t completely better, it was such a relief that someone knew about it. It was wonderful not to be careful wrapping up his arm in the morning. Draco hadn’t realized how many small things he had been doing everyday to make allowances for his arm. Like not carrying books in his left arm because sometimes it hurt—or only reaching for doors with his right hand. He still did the last one as he was a bit worried his sleeve would rise, but he was moving in the right direction. Even when sometimes Tuesday was two steps back but Wednesday was more forward.

“Malfoy.” Potter was standing in front of his table. _Fuck_. Draco couldn’t help but tense. He looked up at Potter with a glare.

“What?” He hoped his overall demeanor of _get the fuck away from me_ would be enough to deter Potter. It wouldn’t be, because Potter had never been deterred by anything but it was nice to hope for a second.

“I—I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Draco dropped his quill and blanched, “What for?” Potter looked uncomfortable, adjusting his bag a bit on his shoulder. He bit his lip and stood there for a moment. Draco was thinking about asking Potter again when he let out a harsh breath.

“Can I sit?” He pulled out a chair opposite Draco. Draco was so confused he nodded before he could really think about it. Potter sat down with his bag on his lap. He was on the edge of his chair, like he was about to run off at any second.

“I was an arse to you the other day when you got hexed. I said you deserved it because of what you did—and I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Draco had no clue what Potter was going to talk to him about, but this would have never made the top ten list. He furrowed his brow, trying to think of all the possible reasons Potter could have for apologizing now, “And you’re coming to me three weeks later about this because?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. Potter flushed angrily, gritting his teeth.

“I just kept thinking about it, and I wanted to—

Draco suddenly understood, “Not feel guilty anymore. I got it. Saint Potter can’t bear to let one person not be an adoring _fan_.”

“Fuck off.” Potter glared at him, clutching his bag tighter to his chest.

“You came to me!” Draco snapped, than winced. He was a bit too loud. Madam Pince would _definitely_ throw him out. Sometimes when the library was too crowded she threw him out to make space.

“Mr. Malfoy.” _Fuck_. He had been too loud, “I think it’s time you left.”

“Yes Madam Pince.” He started packing up his things.

“Why?” Potter asked, and Draco glared at him.

“He bothering you Mr. Potter?” Pince asked.

“No—I think I’m bothering him.” Potter had flushed red, getting that indignant look on his face.

Draco had finished shoving things in his bag. It was better not to fight Madam Pince on this—well, and pretty much everything. He wished Potter would just shut up so he could get away, “It’s fine. I was just leaving anyway—may I check out this book?” Draco pointed to the book he was using for his charms homework.

“That has a great many dark arts spells in it, Mr. Malfoy.” Draco flushed before he could control it. It was difficult to hear Madam Pince chastising Draco by himself, in front of Potter it was just horrifying.

“I-I know. I need it for charms. Professor Flitwick can verify it.”

“I think it best you come visit it here.” Madam Pince waved her wand, and the book started to float back.

“I need to check it out!” Potter said a bit too loud. Madam Pince raised a brow, “We’re in the same class. I have the same essay.”

“Fine.” Pince plopped the book down in Potter’s hand. She raised an eyebrow at Draco.

“I’m leaving.” Draco said with a scowl. Potter had his book. How the hell was he supposed to finish his homework now? He usually came back in early when the library opened and finished his work, since Madam Pince couldn’t face him without a cup of coffee. He threw his bag over his shoulder and tried not to storm out of the library.

“Malfoy!” Potter yelled after him, getting shushed by Madam Pince instantly. But of course, the Golden Boy didn’t get yelled at. Draco purposefully ignored Potter kept walking forward. He managed to get out of the library and he walked as quickly as possible down the hall, “Malfoy wait!” Potter hollered again, running after him.

“ _What_?” Draco whipped around toward him.

“Here” He thrust the charms book into his hand. Draco startled backwards, he couldn’t have been more shocked. He took a step forward and took the book lightly.

“I—thank you.” Draco grasped the edges of the book, pulling it to his chest.

“Does she always kick you out like that?”

“Yes.” Draco looked away, “I better get working.”

“Oh—want to come with me? I found a place to study that isn’t so crowded. I hate the library because people tend to stare at me and ask questions and I—” Potter was babbling a bit, and he turned bright red as he stopped.

“You found another room to study?”

“Well, yes.” Potter nodded. Draco recognized the peace offering for what it was.

“You don’t have to do this because of the other week. You can rest easy.”

“N-no, it’s not because of that.” Potter shook his head, “Come on. I’ll show you.” Potter started walking, motioning for Draco to follow.

Draco wasn’t sure why he did it, but he followed Potter. It was probably because he hadn’t talked to anyone his age in so long that he would even hang out with _Potter_. He was a bit worried it was going to be a trap as he followed Potter to an abandoned hallway and a large tapestry. Potter pulled it back to reveal a wooden door. He pushed it open and inside was a small sitting room with a fireplace, a few tables for studying and large comfy couches.

“Hey Mione, brought Malfoy.” Potter said and Draco froze. His heart was pounding in his chest as Granger looked up from her pile of notes. She raised an eyebrow at Potter, “Madam Pince kicked him out because of me, and I figured it was fair.” Potter plopped down on a leather lazy boy chair.

“Have you done problem four yet for Arithmancy?” Draco asked her, blurting out the first thing that wasn’t controversial that came to mind. _I’m sorry my aunt scarred you_ and _I wish I didn’t call you a mudblood for years_ didn’t really seem appropriate.

“I haven’t figured it out yet.” Granger frowned.

“Me either—want to look at it?” Draco asked tentatively. She nodded, so Draco dropped his bag on the table next to her. He reached into his bag.

“Undetectable extension charm?” Granger asked.

“Yes—several lightening charms. And recently an anti spilling charm.” Draco said proudly.

“You have the top grade in the class.” Granger told him.

“I know.” He smirked a bit, “You have me beat in Arithmancy though—and it’s really anyone’s game in Transfiguration.” Draco had fallen from grace a bit in transfiguration, but he still had a fighting chance.

“Harry isn’t too far behind either of us in Transfiguration—or in charms.” Potter grinned at that.

“I won’t be contending for first or second—you two can duke it out.” He said.

“Didn’t you only get an Acceptable in transfiguration?” Draco asked him.

Potter looked surprised, “Yes, but I like it better now.”

“He also has the top grade in Defense Against the Dark arts.”

“That’s only because Lutz is obsessed with you.” Draco said before he could help it. He tensed a bit as Potter scowled.

“She’s obnoxious. I mean—I could write an essay about nargles and she’d give me an O.” Draco let out a small breath at Potter’s answer—at least he agreed.

“She grades based on names. I’ve had the same grade all year no matter how much effort I put into my essay.” Draco said with a shrug, “Makes it easier to plan around.”

“Just one year I’d like to have a _good_ DADA teacher.” Granger said.

“Snape and Lupin were both good professors.” Potter said, they both looked at Draco expectantly after that.

“I didn’t like Lupin, but he was definitely better than Umbridge.” He said, and Potter laughed a bit. The room relaxed as he took out his arithmancy homework. He felt like he had passed a test. It was odd talking to them, he knew that no one wanted to fight but also wasn’t sure how to handle the situation moving forward. Draco and Granger talked through the arithmancy problem with forced friendly tones. But the more they walked through problems, the easier it was to talk without feeling like he was putting on a show.

It was quiet after Granger and Draco went over their arithmancy homework as everyone worked on their own assignments. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the occasional adjustment. He flipped through the charms book, reading carefully. He was just getting to an interesting bit of entangling certain stones and gems to carry charms. It was in the Dark Magic section of the book because it was nearly always done with cursed objects—like the one Draco had used on Katy Bell. But the process wasn’t Dark at all.

“Alright—I need a break.” Potter declared, making Draco jump.

“ _Jesus_ Harry!” Hermione had her hand on her chest, she must have been frightened by Harry’s declaration as well.

“Sorry—Winky!” He smiled as a house elf appeared in the middle of the room.

“Master Harry Potter sir! Winky can see you’re working very hard. Would Master like some snacks?”

“Yes please Winky, and some non-caffeinated tea. If you would be so kind.” Winky blushed, “Enough for everyone.” She scrunched up her nose at Granger and then looked to Draco.

“Winky knows who you are Master Malfoy. Yous used to be Dobby’s Master!” Winky declared.

“That was my father, but yes.”

“Yous was mean to Dobby!” She frowned, whimpering a bit.

“I was—I’m very sorry I was mean to your friend.” Draco said as sincerely as possible. He never dealt with Dobby much—he was one of Father’s house elves. His mother had two elves, and one was meant for Draco when he became of age. Lipsy. Draco wasn’t very nice to her either. But he hadn’t known any different until much too late. He had apologized to her over the summer, and she had nearly fallen apart. It was the first apology he gave after the war, but it was as good of a start as any.

Winky nodded and disapperated with a crack, assumedly to get food. Granger was frowning at her homework and Potter was staring at the empty space.

“I’ll go check on her later.” Granger said and Potter nodded. Draco wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about, so he looked down at his own homework.

“She was friends with Dobby.” Potter explained, and Draco looked over at him, “She had a bit of a drinking problem before he died, and it’s gotten worse.” He scratched his hand, “We try to look after Winky when we can.”

Draco nodded, not sure what to say to this explanation.

“I recognize her.” Draco admitted.

“She was the Crouch’s elf.” Potter said. And Draco nodded again, “He set her free after the Quidditch World Cup, she hasn’t been the same since.” Draco frowned. To set free an elf was a horrible offense. He didn’t know one elf who didn’t fall apart afterward—except for Dobby.

“What did she do?” Draco asked. Granger scowled like it was an offensive question, “I just meant—I know Barty Crouch wouldn’t let her go unless she did something horrible. I wasn’t taking a stance on house elf rights.”

Potter smirked a bit, but he was careful to hide it from Granger, “Barty Crouch thought Winky had conjured the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup our fourth year. She was looking over Barty Crouch Jr. When he snuck away from her and back to Voldemort, Barty let her go.”

Draco nodded, rubbing his elbow a bit. He had jumped when Potter said _his_ name and slammed it into the table. Winky appeared again, looking like she had cried the entire time she had been gone. She had a tea tray and another tray full of snacks.

“Winky.” Potter said softly, getting on the ground next to the house elf. He hugged her and Winky sobbed into his shoulder. It was a very pathetic display, and Draco felt a bit awkward watching it, “Dobby wouldn’t want us to be sad.”

“No.” Winky agreed with him, “He would want Winky to be a free elf.”

“He would.” Potter encouraged her, looking a bit weepy himself, “he would tell you to accept McGonagall’s pay, and use his money to buy something for yourself.”

“Winky would _never_. Winky is a good elf!”

“You are a good elf.” Potter rubbed her back.

“Winky will be in the kitchens if Master Potter needs her.” She disappeared again.

The tea was made to perfection, as per usual, and the snacks were exactly what Draco needed after a long day. Because they weren’t in the library, no one kicked them out at the end of the night either. In fact, bedtime came and went and not one of them moved. It was nearly midnight when Draco heard some rustling. Potter was standing up.

“I can’t look at another word. I’ll vomit.” He declared. Draco snorted his amusement, but started to pack up too.

“You’re leaving?” Granger looked like she was in for the long haul.

“I’m with Potter—all the words are starting to blend together.” She smiled a bit.

“Oh alright, goodnight then.” She waved them off. Potter handed her a folded up piece of old parchment while he reached into his bag. He grinned as he pulled out a cloak.

“So we don’t get caught.” He told Draco, “I can walk you back to the Slytherin dorms—I know you can’t get in trouble.”

Draco was pleased Potter remembered, though he wasn’t sure why, “How is that going to help us.”

“Come on Malfoy, let’s go have an adventure.” Potter looked a little too eager. Draco couldn’t help but shoot Granger a frightened look.

She laughed. It was strange to hear her laugh genuinely around him. Draco wasn’t sure if it really happened, maybe he was a bit delusional this late at night, “He’s your problem now.” She said with a teasing grin. His heart thumped in his chest and he stepped away from Potter.

“I am no Weasel. I will not be risking my career doing ridiculous things around this castle.” Draco said sternly.

“More like ‘Mione I’d say. You said your _career_ , not your life.” He gave a pointed look at Granger who giggled.

“I maintain that I was correct.” She waved her quill a bit.

“We went onto the third floor first year—she was worried we would get killed—or _worse_ , expelled.” Potter did a spot on impression of his best friend. He turned back to Draco, “I promise, just to the Slytherin common room.”

“Why are you holding the cloak out like that?”

“You need to get under it.”

“Why?” Draco frowned. Potter smirked at him before putting it over himself—only to completely disappear, “You _motherfucker!_ How’d you get an invisibility cloak? They’re incredibly rare!”

“It was my Dad’s.” Potter’s head popped out.

“So this is how you followed me without being seen.”

“Yes.” He nodded.

He scrunched his nose, “Fucker. Alright, let’s go.” He slung his bag over the shoulder, “How are we both going to use it?”

“Ron and I use it all the time together, you will be fine.”

“What are you trying to say?” Draco huffed as he pulled the cloak over his head.

“You’re a skinny git.” Potter said with a laugh as he moved the tapestry. He looked around before stepping out into the hall. It was a bit awkward with the two of them so close together, but they made it work. Draco tried not to think about all the times he tried to hurt, maim, or kill Potter as they made their way to the common room.

“How do you know where our common room is?” Draco hissed the question as Potter seemed to lead the way back.

Potter chuckled lowly, “I’ll tell you another time.”

“ _Beginnings_.” Draco told the door, and it slid open, “Thank you for bringing me back.”

“Of course, and you can come study with us anytime you want—I think Mione actually appreciates someone focused.” He grinned.

“Get some sleep.” Draco told him, neither confirming nor denying the invitation. He figured that was safer in case Potter was just being friendly. Draco walked through the door to get some sleep.

 

“Professor?” Draco called to Flitwick. He waited like he usually did after class to make sure no one shoved him.

“Mr. Malfoy.” He smiled as he waved his wand to start stacking the few crates that were still whole. They had been practicing _cistem aperio_ charms, which blast containers open. They previously had each taken a box home to apply charms repelling the _cistem aperio_ charm. It was actually Potter who managed to figure out how Draco had woven his charms together, un-tangle it, and then blast it open. But it was ok, because Draco figured out Potter’s box as well, “You did well today. Mr. Potter’s charms were particularly well hidden—as were yours.”

“Thank you.” Draco smirked, and then pulled out a book, “I was doing a bit of reading for this project and checked out this book—and it has a section on cursed jewelry.”

“Yes.” Flitwick looked a little stiff, so Draco flushed.

“Not—not because of—I wasn’t—

“You’re quite alright, Mr. Malfoy.” Flitwick said softly, “Continue.”

“I was wondering if it would work with protection charms as well?”

Flitwick frowned, “It’s never been done before. The art of putting charms on jewelry has always been considered Dark Magic—but it’s a very novel idea.” Flitwick’s face slowly brightened, “We could get some materials and try. I doubt the gems would react the same to the curses, but I’m sure with some minor adjustments.”

Draco was nodding, “I think the metal used to hold the jewels effects it too—maybe using copper? Instead of gold. Or maybe even leather, since it holds charms extremely well.”

“This is an excellent thought. I’ll order some materials—we won’t be able to get anything too expensive, but we should be able to figure something out.”

Draco grinned brightly, “Awesome.”

Flitwick laughed, “Yes, Mr. Malfoy, awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hello to me on Tumblr! Caedes12


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic attacks, unicorns and a fresh start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: 
> 
> Panic attack and dissociation described. 
> 
> Thanks for all the love on my first couple of chapters!

Today was not such a good day. It wasn’t that something in particular went wrong; it was just nothing seemed to go right. Draco had woken up a bit too late—opting for a snooze and didn’t have quite enough time to finish an essay. Because of that, he didn’t have time to eat breakfast. There had been a more concentrated effort to hex Draco since Potter spelled that kid’s hair. The barrage today seemed particularly violent. Someone managed to add unicorn hair to his potion, which ruined it. So he got a zero for the potion and would have to come back during his free time to do it again.

His chest felt a bit like it was caving in, and he couldn’t quite breathe right. Recognizing the feeling of a panic attack, he needed to find a place to calm down. He wasn’t too far away from the secret room he had studied with Granger and Potter. Both of them were probably on their way to Transfiguration, so he slipped into the room, careful to use concealment charms so no one would notice.

“Hello?” He called out into the small room, but it was silent. With a sigh, he let his bag fall to the ground as he curled up by the coffee table. He pulled out a glitter pen from his bag and pulled up his sleeve. Draco let out a shaky breath as he drew the first flower, right over the stupid snake. He had owl ordered even more color pens to draw on his skin, with lots of sparkles. He loved looking down at his arm and seeing a sparkly colorful design over top of such a horrid image. Loved was a strong word—but it was much better than what it was before.

His heart rate calmed and the feeling of self-loathing receded a bit as he concentrated on something else. Sure, he was missing part of transfiguration, but he wouldn’t have paid any attention anyway.

“Oh—hello.” A light voice made him jump. Lovegood was standing in the entranceway.

“S-sorry. Potter showed me this was here and I—I’ll leave.”

“May I?” She pointed at his arm. He nodded a bit stiffly as she plopped down in front of him. He had his arm out on the coffee table, so she sat on the other side. Draco turned bright red as she looked at his arm for a moment, his self-harm scars clearly on display. Lovegood didn’t seem to find that horrible as she took a purple glitter pen and began to draw a unicorn, “Makes him seem a bit more ridiculous.”

“That’s why I like doing it.” Draco whispered, too amazed at what she was doing to find his own voice. She nodded serenely.

“I’m sorry Dean put unicorn hair in your potion, I tried to stop him but he didn’t listen to me.” She said.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

She shook her head, “No, I didn’t. But I wanted to.” Her touch was gentle, and for some reason didn’t make Draco want to curl up into himself. She only touched him sparingly and gently with the pen.

“Why would you want to?” Draco couldn’t help but ask.

“My Dad did a horrible thing because I was kidnapped. He feels guilty about it all the time.” She told him, her large eyes staring up at him, “Voldemort had your family from the beginning.”

“My family chose it.” Draco looked away from her.

“Your father chose it.” She countered, the pen still a gentle pressure on his arm, “Harry forgave my Dad, you know? He’ll forgive you too.”

“That’s a bit far fetched—even for you.” Draco said before he could help it, and Luna laughed, “Shouldn’t you be in transfiguration?”

“I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“Oh.” Draco said softly. She changed pens, putting painstaking detail into the unicorn.

“Do you go see Isaac?” Luna asked.

“Yes.” Draco blushed.

“I do too.” She said confidently, “He makes my head seem not as tangled.”

“Is the Manor why you go to see him?” Draco asked.

“Sometimes.” She nodded.

“I’m sorry.” Draco whispered, “I know that’s not enough, but I am.”

She looked up at him, “I accept your apology.” She told him, “But it looked like you had about as much choice of being there as I did. I was very sorry you were left there when we escaped.”

Draco frowned, “It was one of the worst weeks of my life.” He confessed. It was quiet as Luna stared at him a bit.

“May I draw a butterfly too? I think it would make the skull seem much less gruesome.”

“I think that would be lovely.” Draco told her.

“I used to do this too.” She very gently touched one of his self-harm scars. Draco could hardly breathe.

“When?”

“A long time ago—before I had friends. The Ravenclaws weren’t particularly nice to me—called me Loony.”

“I did too.” Draco reminded her.

“I know, but it was different when they did it. I was supposed to belong to them. And they didn’t like me too much.” Luna said with a shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. Draco didn’t realize that Luna had any concept that she was a bit odd.

“How’d you stop?”

“I started making friends—I joined Dumbledore’s Army. And I made a promise to someone that I wouldn’t do it ever again.”

“And you just—stopped? Just like that?”

She nodded, adding some spots to the large butterfly wings she had drawn over the top half of his forearm, “I became friends with Harry, and Ron, Hermione—and Ginny, Neville—I belonged to people, and they belonged to me. Sometimes they think I’m odd, but I think they like it.” She grinned.

“They are all odd, so I’m sure they like you.”

Luna laughed, “You’re a bit odd yourself, Draco Malfoy.”

He let out a sigh, “I suppose I can’t argue—I’m letting you draw a butterfly on my arm.” She giggled.

“I quite like doing this. It’s nice.”

“You can draw on it whenever you like.” Draco told her soundly, “Your drawings are much prettier than mine.”

They continued to chat as she continued to draw. Draco felt something in him relax as they nattered on. It was nice to talk about something and nothing with someone his own age. Luna did say some very odd things, but now he found it endearing. She had to explain all sorts of tiny invisible creatures to him, which he told her blatantly that he didn’t believe in but she didn’t seem to mind his disbelief.

“Er—hey.” Potter stepped into the room, “What are you doing?” He frowned.

“I’m drawing butterflies over the Dark Mark.” Luna told him, sitting back. Potter peaked around Luna. Draco wanted to hide, but he only flinched a bit when he stared at his arm.

“Looks ridiculous.” It wasn’t said in a harsh tone, but a little aghast. Like he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing and wanted confirmation.

“That’s the point.” Draco said.

Potter grinned a bit, “Oh.” He plopped down in a leather chair, “You both weren’t in Transfiguration.”

“Draco needed some time and I joined him.” Luna said then she turned to Draco, “We should go ask McGonagall what we missed.” Draco frowned, he didn’t really think through skipping class. She was sure to be angry.

“We’ll go together.” Luna encouraged him, grabbing her bag, “I can clean it off for you?” She pointed at his arm.

Draco shook his head, “No—I’ll keep it for now.” She nodded. He rolled down his sleeve and grabbed his bag.

“See you at dinner Harry.” Luna kissed his head. The two of them walked out into the hallway, toward McGonagall’s classroom, “Harry yelled at Dean.”

“What?” Draco asked.

“After he ruined your potion, Harry yelled at him.”

“Great. Now I’m something new he can save.”

Luna frowned, “Harry isn’t like that you know. He’s not friends with people because he needs to save them.”

“We’re not friends.”

“Well, not today.” She told him, pushing open the door to McGonagall’s classroom.

“Ah. There you two are.” McGonagall looked over the edge of her glasses, “I assume after eight years you know where my classroom is located?”

“Yes Professor.” They both answered at once, though Luna sounded a bit less like it was an automated response.

“Mr. Malfoy, I believe this is the second class you’ve skipped in a month.” Draco’s stomach dropped. Is this when he was going to get expelled? The panic attack that had been starved off earlier curled in his gut again. His breath came up short.

“I’m sorry Professor.” Draco managed to say.

“I believe I told you if you got into any trouble here, your stay would be cut short.”

“Yes Professor.” Draco felt like he wasn’t in his body anymore. He had been _so close_. It was almost February, just a few short months of being good left. And now it was all over.

“You’re scaring him!” Luna’s stern tone broke through the panic a bit. A soft hand pressed against his chest, he knew it was Luna by the way she smelled. It was right on top of his heart, “Deep breath.”

“I-I-I can’t breathe.” He told her, trying to pull at his collar.

“Yes you can.” She said assuredly and calmly, “Slow breath in, feel your heart beat, and slow breath out.” Draco tried to take a deep breath. He was holding her hand clutched at his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He let out a slow breath, “Draco has panic attacks Professor, which is why he missed both classes. He should have told you earlier, but you weren’t being very nice.” Luna said.

“Luna.” He chastised, but he couldn’t really see straight. His breath was slowly coming down and he felt the wall up against his back. He didn’t remember backing into the wall, but apparently he had at some point.

“Keep breathing deeply.” She said. And Draco matched his breathing to her own. He felt his heart beat regulating.

“You are getting help for your panic attacks, Mr. Malfoy?” McGonagall asked.

“Yes. Isaac helps me.” Draco nodded, keeping his eyes closed, “I went to him the day I missed class.”

“You went to him today as well?”

“No—I’m trying to learn how to self sooth—that’s what Isaac calls it anyway.”

“I will verify this all with him.”

“Go right ahead.” Draco said bitterly. She stalked out of the classroom, “I don’t understand why she _hates_ me so much.”

“Rosmerta is one of her best friends—and McGonagall’s heart hasn’t been the same since she was stunned by the Death Eaters your sixth year.” Luna answered. The answer was much worse than not knowing. Draco hung his head as profound sadness struck his core. He couldn’t possibly make up for that, “Draco, I didn’t tell you so that you would feel more guilty.” Luna whispered.

“I hated myself that whole year—I wasn’t sure what to do. I felt like I was falling apart and no one could see it.” He frowned, “The sick part is that I’m mad at her for not seeing me.” He huffed, “All these noble fucking Gryffindors strut around like they’re always right—and they’re not.”

“You’re right, they’re not.” Luna agreed. She sat down next to him and put her head on his shoulder. He wasn’t quite sure why he was ok with her touch, but his body didn’t spiral into panic like it did with everyone else.

The ache in Draco’s chest didn’t dull as he sat there. He just wished he could do one _stupid_ thing _right_. They sat there together until McGonagall came back. She looked flushed and a little upset.

“It seems you are correct, Mr. Malfoy.” She told him.

“So I’m not getting expelled?”

“Not today.” Draco felt only a little bit of relief, his chest still tight as he stood up.

“What did we miss in class?” Draco asked.

“We are transfiguring our fingers to have webbing.”

“That is very useful.” Luna said excitedly.

“We went over the basic construct of how to do it, as outlined in the chapter for homework. I suggest you both read it diligently.”

“Thank you Professor.” Draco whispered.

“It is the base for the next several weeks as we transfigure our bodies to have other aquatic features, so if either of you struggle, please come to extra office hours.”

“We will.” Luna rocked on her toes as Draco nodded. He was excited for this section of the textbook.

“And I advise you keep romantic dalliances outside the classroom.” She said with a raised brow. Draco took a step away from Luna.

“We’re not—I mean she’s very lovely but—”

“Draco likes men, Professor.” Draco wanted to slap his own face, but managed to resist as his stomach dropped. Was he that obvious?

“Luna!” He hissed, “You can’t just announce that for other people!”

“Sorry.” She tilted her head, “But she wouldn’t have believed us otherwise.”

“I am sorry, it’s none of my business.” McGonagall looked ridiculously uncomfortable.

“It’s not.” Draco said soundly, “I understand why you don’t trust me, but you should at least trust Luna if she tells you we’re not dating.” He glared a bit at her before grabbing his bag and marching out of the room. He really needed to control his temper. Keep his head down. Don’t be stupid. Why couldn’t he follow his own mantras? He walked down the hallway quickly to outrun McGonagall in case she changed her mind about him staying at Hogwarts.

“Draco!” Luna called to him, so he waited for her to catch up, “I’m sorry.”

He let out a slow breath, “Please don’t go around telling people that, it’s my choice to tell someone.”

“You’re right”

“And how did you know?”

She shrugged, “Seemed obvious to me.”

Draco frowned, “I’ll see you in class.”

“You’re not coming to dinner?” Draco shook his head, walking away.

 

He wanted to go back to his room, but he knew being alone wasn’t a good idea right now. Cold icy fingers had gripped his heart. His chest hadn’t loosened and he could barely breathe. McGonagall _should_ hate him. That she had given him a chance in the first place was nothing short of a miracle. He didn’t really pay attention to where he was walking, or that he should have his wards up. A stinging hex hit his face with such force that he flopped back against the wall. Luckily, this time his bag didn’t spill thanks to his charms. He grabbed his bag, and didn’t pay the sneering any attention as he walked toward Isaac’s office.

The door was closed, so he knocked on it. Isaac opened the door.

“Jesus! What the hell happened?”

“Stinging hex.” Draco managed to mumble, his throat closing with emotion. It was like now that he could relax, all the tears he hadn’t shed crept up.

“Come in.” He opened the door wider.

“Can I just—I just want to sleep. I’ve had a shit day.” Draco’s voice wobbled.

“McGonagall came here—I may have yelled at her a bit.” Isaac told him, and Draco nodded.

“I used the _imperius_ curse on her best friend and let a bunch of Death Eaters into the castle that stunned McGonagall so strongly her heart hasn’t been the same since.” Draco informed him.

“Draco.” Isaac said his name softly, reaching out. Draco flinched away before he could help it.

“I’m sorry.” Draco wiped his face free of tears despite how much it stung.

“You’re alright. Take a nap on my couch, ok? I have paperwork I have to get done anyway. You won’t disturb me.”

“Thank you.” Draco said it gutturally, trying to convey how grateful he was. He plopped his bag down and curled up on the couch, facing the seat cushions. He put his hand over his head, and maybe cried a bit before falling asleep.

 

A loud crash woke him up suddenly. He gripped his wand as he flipped over to face the sound.

“Shit fucking God _damn_ it!” A woman frowned, “I’m so sorry.” Her long braids were piled up half-hazard on top of her head, a few of them loose. A large metal tray was on the ground and shattered glass. Draco waved his wand to fix it without thinking, “Thank you.”

“Who are you?”

“Isaac’s sister. Who are you?”

“Where’s Isaac?”

“He went for a run—he does that when he’s pissed.” She told him, setting down the tray and glass thing on the desk. There were several boxes too—they looked like cake boxes, “Who’re you?”

“Draco.” He told her.

“Oh—I’ve heard about you. He doesn’t tell me anything confidential, of course, but he talks about you sometimes. He said you spent Christmas together. You ate one of my tarts.”

“You’re Lindsey.” Isaac’s sister was _Lindsey_. She was a lot younger than Isaac, which made Draco curious.

She grinned, “He talks about me?”

“We talked about how you bake—I liked your tart at Christmas. It was delicious.” Draco told her, feeling a bit awkward. He wasn’t sure when he got a blanket, but he pulled it tighter. Now that the adrenalin was wearing off, he felt a bit sleepy despite just waking up.

“I have one here if you want a slice.” She waved to one of the boxes.

“What else do you make?” Draco asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

She grinned, “A bit of everything. I like cupcakes too—and cake—and _brownies_. I love everything.” She told him.

“What is in the boxes?” He perked up a bit.

“My brownies are my specialty if you want to try—Isaac loves my tarts the best.”

“I’ll try a brownie.” He said quickly. She laughed.

“A young man that likes chocolate, I should have known.” She laughed. She was wearing a spring dress despite it being February, but it looked like she had just come from somewhere warm.

“Did you just get here?”

She nodded, “Isaac picked me up and brought me back here. I’m here for a few days.”

“Where do you live?”

“Florida.” She smiled as she pulled out a brownie and put it on a plate. She walked over and handed it to him. Draco couldn’t help but see the _dozens_ of self-harm scars up and down her arms. He took the plate from her, “Oh, pretty.” She pointed at his arm. He hadn’t realized that he had never buttoned them after Luna had drawn over his Dark Mark, the sleeves must have slid up in his sleep.

He blushed, “Thanks.”

“I used to use the pens too.” She said, plopping down on the floor in front of where Draco was sitting with her own brownie.

“Oh.” Draco whispered, not sure how to talk about this.

“I used to cut myself a lot.” She hiked up her dress and cocked her hip so Draco could see the hundreds of scars on her upper thighs. He couldn’t help how big his eyes got. She had a tattoo of a flower amidst the scars.

“You don’t anymore?” Draco asked, taking a bite of his brownie. It was _delicious_. It was the perfect amount of fudgy, and super chocolate-y.

“No. I go through rough times now and again, cause I’m human, but not like this.” She told him, “I’m not ashamed of them anymore either. I’ll wear a bikini like everyone else on the beach.” She grinned brightly and Draco couldn’t help but smile back.

“Why do you live in Florida?”

“Why wouldn’t I? The weather is beautiful. And that’s where my Mum’s family is from—I used to live with them, but now I live above my bake shop.”

“You do this for a living?” Draco asked.

She nodded, “Yeah—I’m a Squib, which is why I used to cut myself. My parents weren’t anything but supportive and kind, but it was difficult when your family has magic and you don’t. They didn’t know really what to do with me. Moving in with my Mum’s family helped—they’re muggles.”

Draco was surprised she was that straight forward. He nodded, taking another bite of his brownie, “When did you move to Florida to be with them?”

“When I was sixteen.”

“And you still have a British accent?” He asked with a laugh.

She giggled, “I’m black—which in America can be an issue. The British accent throws them off, I get away with more.” She winked and Draco laughed more. Draco couldn’t stop asking questions about her bakeshop. Apparently she had to work ridiculously early in the morning to make sure everything was ready in time. He didn’t really know how to bake without magic—or with it—so she explained as much as she could.

While she talked about baking, she pulled out examples of her cupcakes, scones and pastries. And if Draco tried them all to make sure they were as good as she said, that wasn’t here nor there. Everything _was_ delicious.

“So, why do you cut yourself?” Lindsey asked, biting into a cupcake. Draco took a sharp breath.

“You know about the war here?”

“Of course.”

“I was on the wrong side. I did a bunch of things I’m not proud of—I don’t really have an excuse other than that I was taught hating muggles, muggleborns—squibs—was the right thing to do.” Draco frowned, feeling a bit sick, “I don’t think that way anymore.”

“I didn’t think you did.” Lindsey shook her head, “I get vibes from people right away who have issues with it—it’s one of the things you become _really_ aware from a young age when you’re a squib.”

Draco frowned, “I tortured people during the war to save my own skin, I’m the reason why my headmaster was murdered, I let Death Eaters into the school, bullied a bunch of people who I thought were _inferior_.” Draco shook his head, “Too many things to make up for.”

She slid another brownie toward him, “Eat. Chocolate always makes me feel better.” And she smiled, “You get a fresh start with me—and so far you’re alright in my book.”

Draco laughed a bit, “Thanks.” He took a bite of his second brownie, and she was right—it did make him feel better.

Isaac walked into the room then, a bit sweaty and gross from his workout.

“Oh—you met my sister.”

“I met Draco.” Lindsey told him, “And then I gave him sweets because he is much too thin.”

“Let’s get some real food too.” Isaac said with a grin, rubbing his head with a towel, “I need more than a pastry—Riley?”

“Master Isaac sir.” He appeared quickly.

“Something for dinner please—three of us.”

“Of course Master Isaac sirs.” He disappeared again.

Lindsey grimaced, “House elves kinda freak me out—but it would be so nice to have one in the bake shop.”

“What’s your place called?” Draco asked.

“Chocolate Divinity.” She said with a proud smile, “Obviously not all my things have chocolate in them—but I try. It’s my favorite.”

“Who drew on you?” Isaac asked, pointing at Draco’s arm. He had left his sleeves up without noticing.

“Luna Lovegood.” Draco answered, and Isaac grinned.

“I like that girl.” Isaac told him.

 

They ended up eating dinner in Isaac’s quarters. Draco had only ever seen Snape’s rooms, so he was excited to see Isaac’s. The three of them sat at dinner and ate until Draco was so full he thought he would burst—and then Lindsey brought out tiny pies. Draco laughed until he thought he would split in two. The siblings told lots of stories about growing up. And despite Lindsey’s struggles, she sounded proud of her childhood. Isaac was fifteen years older, so Lindsey mostly remembered how much he bullied her (as big brothers tend to do).

When the clock chimed one in the morning, Isaac yawned.

“It’s time for bed.” He told both of them, “The guest room is made up for you Lindsey.”

“Perfect. Draco, I hope you’ll come by tomorrow. Isaac has faculty meetings in the afternoon and I’ll have no one to play with.”

Draco smiled, “I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow.”

“Oh! Can we go to Hogsmeade? I’ve been wanting to go to Honey Dukes to prove I’m better.”

Draco flushed, “I-I don’t go to Hogsmeade.”

“Why?”

“Lindsey!” Isaac frowned.

Draco looked down at the floor, figuring he should be honest, “I used the imperius curse on Rosmerta—she runs the Three Broomsticks. I haven’t—I just haven’t been back since.”

She was quiet for a moment, “We can go together tomorrow if you’d like. If anyone gives you grief, I’ll punch them.” She grinned. Draco couldn’t help but laugh. And to be honest, he would bet on Lindsey over many of the witches and wizards there.

“Y-yeah. Ok.” He nodded, “We can go.”

“You don’t have to Draco.” Isaac said strongly, “If you’re not ready.”

He nodded, “I know—but I want to. Plus, it’s a lot easier to get things if I can go to Hogsmeade instead of owl ordering.” They both smiled at him.

“Alright, is the couch alright for you?” Isaac asked him.

“I can go back to my room.”

“If you’re caught out after hours, you’ll get in trouble. I don’t want that.” Isaac said, “Sleep here.”

Draco felt a little awkward about it, but acquiesced. He felt at home with both of them, so he pushed his awkwardness to the side. He transfigured his shirt and khakis into something more comfortable as Isaac made up a bed.

“Goodnight Draco.” Lindsey waved goodnight from the doorway, her hair wrapped up on top of her head.

They both closed their doors and Draco let out a breath, closing his eyes. It was a bit strange to sleep in a teacher's room, but he guessed Isaac wasn't a real teacher anyway. And he liked being in his quarters, they felt warm and cozy. And he knew if he went back to his room he would feel alone and cold. So he pushed the residual awkwardness aside and let himself relax. 

He wanted to enjoy tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on Tumblr! Caedes12


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogsmeade adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been getting such kind comments that it is difficult for my heart not to feel full. My life has been a stress ball and this sometimes feels indulgent when I have so many other things to do. But your comments really do bring me solace and help me gear up for anything. 
> 
> So much love sending back your way. 
> 
> And as a treat, the Harry Potter is in this chapter :)

“Sh! You’ll wake him up!” Isaac hissed.

“I didn’t _mean_ to drop the bowl!” Lindsey snapped back.

“I’m awake.” He said, his voice groggy.

“Well then good morning sunshine!” Lindsey said, Draco opened his eyes to see her smiling at him from across the room in the kitchen, “I’m making French toast.” She pulled out a tray from the fridge as she did.

“Sounds wonderful.” Draco said, stretching his back.

Lindsey and Isaac bickered the entire time they made breakfast. It was all in good nature, but the arguing was constant.

“Just because I don’t do this for a living—

“Well _some_ of us studied flavor profiles instead of _spells_.”

“Don’t use magic! It makes it taste weird!”

“Not too much sugar Lindsey!”

Draco had to disagree on the last one, there was no such thing as too much sugar in his opinion. He sipped on coffee and watched their antics, intrigued by how the siblings interacted. He didn’t have a sibling and none of his friends did growing up, so all of this was a bit foreign to him.

“Stop telling me what to do!” Lindsey slapped him with a spatula. Isaac shoved her over with his hip to put the French toast in the oven after they had cooked for a bit on the stove top, “The British are coming!”

“Stop saying that!” Isaac snapped, but Lindsey only giggled. Isaac turned to Draco, “She’s only American when it suits her.”

“No taxation without representation!” Lindsey moved him aside peak in the oven.

“That doesn’t even make any sense in this context.” Isaac said with a sigh.

“Go chop fruit.” She ordered. Isaac waved his wand at the strawberries. The green leafy part popped off and went into the trash; the strawberries divided themselves up neatly, “Fucker. I’d save so much time if I could do that.” Lindsey sighed. She plopped the French toast on three plates, adding some sort of fruit puree blend to each one. Then she put blueberries and strawberries on top, with a massive dollop of freshly made whipped cream.

Draco was salivating by the time he got his plate. The first bite was absolute divinity.

“You need to open a breakfast place.” Draco told her. Lindsey laughed.

“No, some things need to be sacred.” She shook her head, “I enjoy making it, and I don’t want to stop loving it.”

“It tastes _so_ good.” Draco enthused.

“The key is making sure you have stale bread, and then letting it soak in the custard for awhile. I let mine soak overnight.” She waggled her eyebrows, “it’s terrible for you, but delicious.”

“I don’t know how to cook anything.” Draco confessed.

“Nothing?” Lindsey looked appalled.

“I—my family has house elves.” He blushed, “Then I was here.”

“Jesus.” Lindsey shook her head, “Well, if we end up getting lunch in Hogsmeade, I’ll teach you something as we cook dinner.”

Draco grinned, “Ok.”

Draco got more and more anxious as it was getting closer to time to leave. He kept rubbing his fingers against his sleeve, trying to push it down further. But he knew he wanted to go.

“Let me get changed and then we can go to Hogsmeade?” Lindsey asked.

“I need to change too.” He told her, looking down at his transfigured pajamas, “And shower.”

“Ok—want to meet by the front gates in forty minutes?”

Draco nodded, “Sounds good.”

 

Draco took a quick shower, and had just enough time to work himself into a bit of a tizzy. He took out his pens and drew a few miscellaneous things on his arm before pulling on his cloak and walking down to meet Lindsey.

“You look nice, am I too casual?” She looked nervous as she glanced down at her jeans, sweater and a coat. He didn’t know why that helped—her being nervous. It made him feel stronger.

“No. Everyone in Hogsmeade looks like that. And I am wearing casual clothes.” He looked at his slacks and black turtleneck with black cloak.

“You wouldn’t know casual if it bit you.” She said with a snort, “And I want you to know that we can leave if you’re uncomfortable. I know I can be a bit insistent, but I’m serious. I don’t want you to hate me for making you go to Hogsmeade.”

“I think it’s time I try to go. I won’t by myself.” He confessed, rubbing his thumb along his index finger as his cheeks turned a bit pink.

“If it makes you feel better, being around that many people of magic makes me nervous. I worry I’ll go back to what I was like before.” She revealed.

Draco smiled softly, “Together then?”

“Together!” She said excitedly, moving to grab his arm then stopped herself, “Sorry. I hope you don’t mind—Isaac told me you don’t like to be touched. He only told me cause I’m a bit of a touchy person—you can blame the American in me.” She smiled.

Draco offered his arm and Lindsey laughed as she very carefully wove her arm under his. His stomach fluttered a bit, but he was determined to see it through. He pushed through the door.

“Buggering bloody fuck!” Lindsey cried out, “Why is it cold as balls?”

Draco laughed as the continued to walk, “Too used to the Florida sunshine.”

“Christ it’s cold.” She shivered. Draco noticed her jacket was a bit too thin for this type of weather.

“Do you mind if I cast a heating charm on your coat? It’ll help.” Draco asked.

“Go right the fuck ahead.” She told him, her teeth chattering. Draco took off his own earmuffs and passed them to her while casting a warming charm.

“Now your ears will be cold!” She complained, but she did look a lot happier.

“I have a scarf.” He said, pulling his Slytherin scarf up a bit higher. There was snow on the ground as they walked toward Hogsmeade.

They walked around the corner and Lindsey squeezed his arm, “It’s beautiful.” It had been awhile since he looked at Hogsmeade with new eyes, but he found Lindsey’s assessment accurate. It was a beautiful, cute little town.

“Honey Dukes?”

“Please.”

The town was full of people since it was a Saturday. Hogwarts students were everywhere. Draco made sure to discretely cast charms that would protect both Lindsey and himself from a stray hex sent his way.

Draco was tense as he walked into Honey Dukes, but no one said anything as they walked around the shop. Lindsey chattered on about each item and how they were made. Draco had no idea so much effort went into pastry crust. As they walked around, Draco realized no one was glaring at him. Apparently people were more into sweets than hexing him.

“Ah—that’s gorgeous.” Lindsey pointed to one pastry, “I love the design.”

“I’m sure you could do that.”

She shook her head, “They definitely use magic to make that—the way it’s so delicate at the edge like that—you can’t get that in an oven. They probably baked it with their wands.” The pastry had a design popping out of it in the shape of a strawberry. The leaves fluttered a bit. He took her hand and squeezed it gently.

“Probably tastes like shit.”

Lindsey laughed, leaning into his shoulder and kissing his head. Draco managed not to flinch away, only because her loud laughter made him feel light.

“What do you want to try?” Draco encouraged. They ordered a few different things, including that pastry, which were all boxed up and placed in bags. Draco handed over the galleons.

“Isaac gave me money! I can pay.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Draco shook his head. He had more money than he knew what to do with anyway. And despite Lucius’s idiocy when it came to ideology, he was no idiot when it came to finance. Draco’s grandchildren’s grandchildren could afford to be lay-abouts. Lindsey was quiet as they left the store, and Draco wasn’t quite sure why.

“I don’t want you to think too much into this—I mean, I have a boyfriend at home.”

“Lindsey—”

“And he’s a very nice guy. Not that you aren’t—I just, you’re more than ten years younger than me. And I know it’s a bit sexist of me, but I don’t like men younger than me—”

“Lindsey—”

“Or is that age-ist? Well I guess since I think men dating younger women is ok, it’s probably sexist. Anyway—I just don’t think that—”

“Lindsey.” Draco made her turn towards him in the street, “I’m gay.” It was the second time he had ever said it out loud, and definitely the first time it came out with an amused tone. But it felt nice. He didn’t have anything to hide from her, and it was freeing not to do it.

Lindsey flushed, “Shit, that was a bit presumptuous of me wasn’t it?”

Draco laughed, “Come on, I have to get some more ink and a quill.” He pointed at the next shop. They walked into the shop and it was only a bit emptier than Honey Dukes. It was mainly because it was full of school supplies that it was so busy, but it still ranked second to sweets.

“Hey Malfoy.” Potter greeted with a small grin, shuffling his feet a bit when Draco came over to the black ink section. Who knew there were so many kinds of black ink? Why was he surprised by this every time?

“Potter.” He nodded.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” Draco furrowed his brow, “Not—I meant you haven’t been here, in Hogsmeade—that’s all.” Potter frowned a bit, looking at the ground.

“I’m Lindsey.” Lindsey struck out her hand, “I dragged Draco here.”

“Nice to meet you—I’m Harry.” Potter shook her hand.

Lindsey’s eyes grew three sizes, “Y-you’re Harry Potter?” She stuttered.

Potter flushed, rubbing the back of his neck a bit, “Guilty.” He looked awkward for a bit, “What brings you here?”

“She’s Isaac’s sister—she’s visiting from Florida.” Draco said.

Potter’s face brightened, “Isaac’s great. I’ve been seeing him for about a month.”

Lindsey nodded, “I think he’s pretty great too.”

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” Potter looked a bit awkward by himself, turning around with a few quills in his hand.

“You _know_ him.” Lindsey hissed as Draco grabbed a bottle of ink.

“Of course. It’s not that big of a school.” Draco said with a chortle.

“But he said _hi_ to you.”

“Oh Merlin, are you a fan?” Draco asked, “Don’t tell me you have his poster.”

“He saved the world!” Lindsey whispered, and Draco cackled.

“He’s a normal person, just like the rest of us. He is _horrible_ at history of magic and clearly never touches his hair.”

Lindsey laughed, “I don’t know, he’s got the roguishly handsome thing going for him.”

Draco shot her a look with a wry grin, “I thought he might be too young for you considering he’s—”

She whacked his shoulder in a friendly way, but Draco startled backward, nearly toppling a shelf.

“Oh fucking shit. I’m sorry.” Lindsey said soberly, “I—I didn’t mean—

“I know. I bloody well can’t control it.” Draco said through grit teeth, taking a deep breath.

“I know—I just was qualifying my actions. I’m so sorry Draco.” Draco let out another breath.

“You’re alright. It’s my fault.”

“I rather think it is someone else’s.” She said, her brows tight, then smirked, “or yours for making a joke too soon.”

Draco laughed at that, the tension leaving his body almost immediately, “Hungry?”

“Yes.” She said nodded quickly, so they headed up to the cash register. He put the bottle of ink, a quill, and a few rolls of new parchment on the table.

“Your money is no good here.” The cashier said sternly. Draco felt his stomach drop before his face went white. It felt like he might vomit.

“Is mine?” Lindsey asked, a bright smile on her face, but Draco could feel the tension.

The cashier frowned; saw that she wasn’t holding anything, so his frown deepened, “No.”

“What about mine?” Potter sounded furious. Draco only knew the quiet anger because he saw it directed at Snape for years.

“Mr. Potter! Of—of course!” He stuttered. Potter laid down a few galleons and paid for everything. The three left in silence, the tension strong in Draco’s shoulders as he pushed through the door first.

“Potter, let me pay you back.”

Potter shook his head, “It’s fine.” But Draco was already placing the coins in Potter’s bag and with his hand full it wasn’t like Potter could stop him.

“What an arse.” Lindsey frowned, “Draco, we don’t have to go to the Three Broomsticks—I’ll make lunch back at the castle.”

“Or I can go with you.” Potter offered. Draco frowned, looking down at the ground. He didn’t really want to ruin Lindsey’s fun, but he also didn’t want Potter’s charity, “Come on, I swear I’m not bad company.”

“You are horrible company.” Draco countered, and Potter only laughed, “Don’t you have Granger and your girlfriend to get back to?”

“Ron came to visit ‘Mione, so whatever they’re doing I don’t want to be apart of” His tone was amused, “And I don’t have a girlfriend.” Potter rocked up his toes with a grin, “I do things by myself, you know.”

“No.” Draco shook his head, but one look at Lindsey had him reconsidering. She looked like she wouldn’t say anything to Draco if he kept to the decision, but she clearly wanted to talk to Potter more. Draco huffed, kicking a stone, “Fine.”

“Well then, it’s decided.” Lindsey took Potter’s arm in her own and then held her other arm out to Draco, “To the Three Broomsticks.” Draco slowly put his arm through hers.

“So Harry, is it true you trained with Dumbledore by wrestling bears?” Lindsey asked.

Potter laughed, “That is not a rumor is it? You made that up!” He accused as they walked.

“No. I mean—it was in a less than reputable paper in Florida. But still.”

“No—there was no bear wrestling.” Potter confirmed.

“Well that’s just disappointing.” Draco said, “I’ve been telling everyone you wrestled bears.” The closer they got to the Three Broomsticks, the more Draco wanted to run in the other direction. But he couldn’t bail out with Potter watching. What was left of his pride wouldn’t allow it. Potter walked in first, followed by Draco and then Lindsey—who was probably making sure he didn’t run for the hills. He couldn’t breathe as he walked inside.

Rosmerta stared at him as soon as he walked in and his heart stopped in his chest.

“You and me.” She pointed at him and then pointed to the back room.

“I-alright.” Draco went to follow her.

He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he figured whatever she did to him he had coming. He ducked behind the bar and followed her into a back room. The door opened with a loud creak that echoed in the silent bar. The door closed with a thud and Draco wondered if it was the last sound he’d hear before she killed him. It was a small office with paperwork everywhere—there was no way this was an organized way to keep the books.

“Sit.” Rosmerta ordered. Draco sat down gingerly on a leather chair. He heard a clink of glasses. She plopped down two small low-ball glasses and filled them both generously with whiskey, then slid him a cup. He took it. When she took a sip, he pressed the glass to his lips and took his own small sip. It burned on the way down and tasted disgusting. He wrinkled his nose, setting the glass down.

“I figured you for a whiskey guy.”

“That’s horrid.” He informed her, coughing a bit. She quirked a reluctant smile.

“It’s an acquired taste.” She downed the rest of it, “What you did to me was horrid.”

“I know.” Draco whispered, taking back his glass and having a bolder sip of his whiskey, “I won’t ask you to forgive me. The reasons I have aren’t enough—I stole time from you, and choice. I was terrified and I thought _I_ didn’t have a choice—which is stupid. I had hundreds of choices.” Draco wiped away a tear that had fallen quite without his consent. His hands were shaking and he felt like his stomach was in his chest, “I would take it back if I could. If wishing was enough to take it back—” Draco’s throat closed and he shook his head.

“You nearly had me kill another student.”

“I know.” Draco murmured into his hands, staring at the whiskey, “That’s why I’m not apologizing. I don’t think I could ever—” The words died in his throat and he blinked quickly, looking away and taking a swig of his drink. It pushed the lodge in his throat down a bit, though it burned to do it, “I’ll leave, and you never have to see me ever again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Your money’s still gold.” She shook her head, “And I think that was a better non-apology than some real apologies I have gotten.” She poured herself more to drink, “I understood better when I read the article on your trial. They released the transcript.”

“I didn’t know that.” Draco frowned. He never read the Prophet, it made him hurt.

“You said You-know-who had your parents all sixth year.” She shrugged a shoulder, “Doesn’t make what you did forgivable—and honestly if you had brought that up as an excuse I would have hexed you—but it does give you a reason. And I suppose that’s better than not knowing why.”

“If you want to hex me, you’ll have to tell me. Usually I keep charms in place for protection—I get hexed a lot. Not saying I don’t deserve it—I just wanted to let you know before you tried.” He blushed.

“I’m not going to hex you.” She said with a sigh, throwing back the rest of her drink, “Come on, I’ll send you out to your friends.” Draco wanted to object that Potter was _not_ his friend, but he kept his mouth shut. He took one more large swallow of his whiskey and shivered.

“How do people _drink_ that?” He asked.

Rosmerta cackled as she walked out, “Come back in a few years and you’ll find it as funny as I do.” She shook her head. The bar was a bit quiet as they walked out, and Draco could tell everyone was trying not to look at them. Except for Lindsey and Potter, who were at a table but openly staring at the two of them, “This young man is a welcome patron at my bar—anyone who hexes him here will be thrown out.” She declared loudly, and Draco flushed red as he made his way to where Potter and Lindsey were sitting.

“You alright?” Lindsey whispered as he sat down.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“What do you guys want to drink and eat?” Potter asked, “I’ll order.”

Draco told Potter his order and stared a bit at the wood table. He frowned as he stared, remembering that one of the last times he was here, how desperate he was. His mother was being punished for his lack of success. He couldn’t fix the damn Vanishing Cabinet.

“Draco?” Lindsey called to him softly.

“Yeah.” He was still staring at the table, in a memory he couldn’t quite shake.

“Draco.” She said his name again and he blinked, turning to her, “You alright?”

“I think so.” He told her. She nodded encouragingly as Potter plopped down three butterbeers.

“I haven’t had one of these in _ages_.” Lindsey said, taking one.

“They don’t have them in America?” Potter asked.

“No—not really. But I don’t really go into the magical community a lot in America—I’m a squib.” Lindsey told him, taking a huge sip of butterbeer. Potter nodded as he took a sip of his own butterbeer, but didn’t look phased by her answer.

“What’d you get from Honey Dukes?” Potter asked. And of course that opened a huge line of conversation about sweets. Lindsey was explaining everything to Potter, who surprisingly knew a lot more about cooking than Draco thought. Their sandwiches came out after a short while.

“You’re being quiet.” Lindsey accused Draco.

“I can’t add anything to the topic of cooking or baking.”

“Draco’s never cooked _anything_.” Lindsey whispered conspiratorially. Potter laughed, but not cruelly.

“That is not surprising. Do you know where the kitchen is at the Manor?” Potter sounded like he was teasing.

Draco flushed, “Yes. But the house elves didn’t like it when I went in there. They’d give me food and make me leave.”

Potter laughed, “That’s like the house elves at Hogwarts.”

“You know where the kitchens are?” Draco asked and Potter nodded, “Was in this in some Gryffindor guide that I missed?”

Potter laughed some more, eating another chip, “No—the twins told me where the kitchens are—we would steal stuff for after we won Quidditch matches.”

Draco scowled, “You lost some of those matches too.”

“I don’t remember that happening.” Potter quipped, and Draco reluctantly laughed with Lindsey.

He wasn’t used to this Potter. This Potter that joked and teased—and was smart. Lunch went by quickly with the conversation, and all three went out and explored more shops afterword. Draco couldn’t quite believe he spent an entire afternoon with Potter and didn’t want to hex him once.

They might have gotten glances and a few scowls, but nothing like Draco was used to getting when he went out in wizard areas. By the time the sun was setting, Draco’s feet ached from being on them all day. All three made their way back to the castle.

“Come have dinner with us Harry, I’m teaching Draco how to cook.” Draco felt vaguely jealous that Lindsey liked Harry as much as she liked Draco—but he knew that was a bad idea. So he quashed the feeling as much as he could as they walked into Isaac’s rooms.

“Isaac?” Lindsey called, silence was the answer so he was probably still in meetings, “Alright, let’s start making dinner.”

They were making lasagna, because Lindsey liked it best. She had both Potter and Draco shredding cheese. Potter seemed to be much more adept at it.

“How come you can go so fast?” Draco frowned.

“Practice.” He said, “You’ll get it eventually.”

“How much cheese will I shred before then?” He looked at the small amount of cheese beneath the shredder.

Potter snorted, “Keep shredding, we’ll need a lot for lasagna.”

“There’s probably a spell for this.” He murmured.

“It makes it taste weird.” Lindsey told him. Draco looked to Potter for help.

“She’s right.” Potter shrugged, “It sort of tastes more like plastic. Not everything is like that though—vegetables are usually fine, and fruits. Meat tastes fine if you use magic _after_ it’s cooked. If you do it before it tastes all sorts of weird.”

“How’d you learn all this?” Lindsey asked.

“Molly—she’s sort of like my adopted Mum—taught me. I live with Ron and Mione, but neither one of them had cooked much before. I had, so I became resident chef and I didn’t know enough for that title.” He laughed a bit to himself, “So I went to Ron’s Mum. Her cooking is brilliant. She taught me the rules about magic cutting.”

“She sounds wonderful.” Lindsey said wistfully.

Potter grinned brightly, “She is wonderful.” Draco frowned at his cheese plate, unsure of how to contribute. He had spent so many years making fun of the Weasley’s, it seemed so stupid now. At least they learned _practical_ things. He didn’t know how to do anything by himself.

“I’ve never been to a grocery store.” Draco confessed in a whisper, almost afraid they would hear him.

“I’ve never been to a wizarding grocery store.” Potter said, “We should go sometime.” Draco didn’t expect Potter to take it in stride, so he sort of smiled to himself as he continued to shred cheese.

Lindsey had them open a bottle of wine. Now wine was something Draco could drink and actually contribute to a conversation about. His Mum loved wine, and had taught Draco early how to spot a good bottle. He has since expanded his taste.

“I love Pinot Noir.” Draco hummed excitedly, pouring glasses for each of them.

“I’ve only had wine once.” Potter took the glass with apprehension, staring at it a bit.

“When you taste test it, you sort of gargle it in the front of your mouth.” Draco told him, taking a small sip and then doing it to demonstrate before swishing it in his mouth and then swallowing.

“I had no idea you were such a connoisseur.” Lindsey teased, “I wouldn’t have brought bottom shelf.”

“It’s a Californian pinot?” Draco asked, turning the bottle with a victorious grin, “Right.”

“You can taste that?” Harry asked.

“My Mum always said they taste fruitier—I have no idea if that’s true or not.” Draco shrugged.

“It tastes like wine to me.” Harry told him. The front door burst open, revealing Isaac. Draco jumped at the sound, but relaxed as soon as he saw who it was.

“Is that wine? I could use a glass—or a bottle.” Isaac looked exhausted, and then frowned, “Didn’t mean to scare you.” Draco looked to Harry, who had jumped up with his wand in hand.

“N-n-no—I’m f-f-fine.” Harry smiled a bit, sitting back down. But Draco knew it was his fake smile, the one where he was being the Savior of the Wizarding World. He also realized then that Potter stuttered when he was surprised. In the other instances, he thought it was because Potter didn’t like being the center of attention in class. But they were only in a small group now.

Isaac rattled on about how long the meetings were as he poured himself a glass of wine. Draco couldn’t help but notice Harry’s hands were shaking. He rubbed his legs a bit, trying to settle them down. Draco continued to shred cheese, only half listening to Isaac complain about staff meetings.

“Well we had a great day.” Lindsey cut off Isaac ranting about old policies.

“Sorry.” Isaac blushed.

“You were getting on your soap box.” Lindsey informed him, taking some of Draco’s shredded cheese and placing it in a pan. She had premade some sauce, that she informed them had meat in it.

“Where did you go?”

“I think we went to every store in Hogsmeade twice.” Draco said.

Lindsey snorted, “We did not.”

“My feet hurt.” Draco complained, taking another sip of wine.

“Did you get stuff at Honey Dukes?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah, all the boxes are over there.” She pointed.

“Got enough?” Isaac looked at the array of bags.

“We wanted to make sure we tried everything.” Lindsey smiled demurely. She waved Draco over, “Come on, you can do this part. It’s just layering.”

She stood next to Draco and helped him layer the sauce, then pasta noodles, then cheese, more sauce, noodles. He got the picture eventually. He worried too much about getting just the right amount.

“Baking you have to worry about being precise.” She told Draco, “With cooking, you have to go with your gut.”

“I don’t have a gut that knows anything about cooking.” Draco informed her, which made her laugh.

“You won’t ruin it, I promise. I’m watching you.”

“But what if I use too much cheese?”

“No such thing.” Potter interjected, stealing some shredded cheese from Draco’s plate and eating it.

“No touching! I worked hard on that!” Draco whacked him with a wooden spoon. Potter laughed, grabbing the cheese Draco had been pathetically trying to shred and shredding it himself. He quickly overcame Draco’s small pile of cheese. Draco very carefully layered the rest of the lasagna. Lindsey laughed a bit as he took his time, but he continued to work slowly. They finally slid it into the oven.

“Now that’s in for about an hour.” She declared.

“I may know a spell.” Harry said, “If you speed it up too much, it won’t taste good. But I can probably get it down to thirty five minutes.”

“Do it Potter, I’m starving.” Draco looked at the oven. Harry laughed, tapping the oven and whispering a spell.

Draco didn’t say anything to Potter about the shaking earlier, but Draco watched him slowly relax as they all chatted and drank a glass of wine.

“Now where is this rivalry I’ve heard so much about?” Isaac asked, looking at both of them.

“I thought you two were friends?” Lindsey asked.

Draco snorted, “No. Not friends.” He looked at Potter over his wine glass, “I didn’t know you could be friendly.”

Potter laughed, his cheeks a bit red from the alcohol, “I didn’t know you could like anyone not in Slytherin.”

“Well, I don’t know what Isaac was—but probably not a Slytherin.” Isaac looked innocent. Draco scrunched his nose, “No!”

Isaac laughed, “No, no. You’re right. I wasn’t a Slytherin.”

“I’d bet anything he was a Hufflepuff.” Potter said.

“I agree with Potter.” Draco then held his hand to his chest, “I can’t believe I just said that.”

Potter laughed, “Dramatic prat.”

“I was in Hufflepuff.” Isaac confirmed, making both boys laugh.

Dinner was wonderful. It was probably the best food Draco had ever eaten, but he was definitely bias in that belief. It was a bit weird to be friendly with Potter, but they managed it by barley speaking directly to one another. They talked right up until bedtime, when Isaac insisted they go back to their houses. They clambered out in to the hallway, Draco feeling a bit warm from the wine but not too crazy.

It was quiet as they walked in the same direction, Draco feeling so awkward about it that he didn’t know how to breach the silence.

“Do you feel like sometimes he doesn’t understand?” Potter asked. It was easier to be friendly with other people around.

“Isaac?” Draco asked, which was a stupid question because of course that’s whom he was talking about.

“Yeah—just sometimes I feel like he doesn’t understand—what it was like—here.” Potter looked at the ground.

“He doesn’t give certain things the amount of weight I think they deserve.” Draco agreed carefully. He felt like he had a shield up between them, not sure what Potter’s motives were in the conversation.

Potter nodded, looking toward a painting on the wall, “He means well.”

Draco let out a breath, “He does.” He frowned a bit, trying to find words that wouldn’t offend Potter, “It’s nice, for me, not to have them know what it was like. I told Lindsey what I did—what I believed in—she still wanted to spend the day with me. It’s like because she didn’t see it, it’s not as bad.”

Potter nodded, “It’s difficult to describe the constant fear and how long it lasted. It’s difficult for me to get out of this mode of constant vigilance. He doesn’t understand that I count the exits in a room before I’ve taken three steps into it, or that I choose to sit where I can see everything. It’s not something I control.”

Draco bobbed his head, he definitely understood that, “I don’t take people at their word. I lived there too long, I learned to question _everything_.” Potter hummed his agreement. It was a bit weird to talk to him about it, but it was comforting. It felt a bit like walking onto thin ice—but the ice didn’t want to break either. Potter understood in a way Isaac never had. They walked in silence up to the point where Potter went up the steps and Draco went down toward the dungeons.

“You never told me how you know where the Slytherin common room is.” Draco told him.

Potter did that irritating arrogant smirk, “I’ll tell you eventually. Night.” He waved, dashing up the steps. Draco frowned at the empty place, but went his own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr! Caedes 12


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic attacks and mending fences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> PTSD warnings. Panic attack warning. 
> 
> Also I've had a bottle of Nyquil, so my editing is probably interesting to say the least.

“Draco?” Luna came up to him Monday as he walked to class. She thrust a small charm into his hands. It was a necklace with a cork from a butter beer on the end.

“What is this?” Draco asked, confused.

“I’m sorry for what I said to McGonagall.” She looked around to make sure no one was listening, “About—well, you know.” She frowned.

Draco felt like his entire body was frozen as he stared at the charm, “I am in no position to accept apologies from you—after what my family did to you I cannot—”

“Draco.” She interrupted firmly, “To wrongs don’t make a right. I upset you, and I am sorry.”

Draco nodded stiffly, looking down at the charm, “You know I don’t believe in nargles, Loony.” His tone was teasing and a bit exasperated. She laughed loudly, sounding like a bunch of fairies. Draco relaxed, his shoulders falling and it felt like he could move again. Luna took the charm from his hand and put it around his neck. It was a long necklace that dropped midway down his chest.

“Thank you.” Draco said, his cheeks a bit red as she backed away.

“You’re welcome.” She bounced on her toes, “Ready for Arithmancy?”

Draco nodded, following her to class.

 

It was wonderful having Lindsey at Hogwarts for the week. And though he had classes, he spent a lot of his free time with her. She showed Draco how to cook a couple of different things, and of course how to bake. He liked baking a lot more than cooking, but found he enjoyed both.

“You must come visit me in Florida.” Lindsey insisted as she hugged Draco tightly.

“I will.” Draco swore. He wanted to see the bakery she loved so much, and the family she talked about. He couldn’t visit her on spring break because he was still on probation and couldn’t leave the country.

Her leaving hit Draco like a ton of bricks. He didn’t realize how used to being lonely he had become until she was there and then gone again. No one spoke to him during the day unless he saw Isaac. Sometimes Luna would talk to him in class, but he was no one’s pity case.

March at least brought slightly warmer weather. Draco was tired of shivering all the time. But it also meant spring break was coming up soon, and he still didn’t want to go home. His mother hinted at it in her last letter, but Draco didn’t respond. Part of his therapy with Isaac meant he wrote more letters home, which worked out well. It seemed his mother was more open than what he thought. But he couldn’t go home for spring break—especially since it was the one year since—since it had happened. He couldn’t be in that place.

“Mr. Malfoy!” Flitwick called to him after class.

“Yes?”

“The materials came in!” He said excitedly, showing Draco a box, “We can experiment if we’d like.”

Draco threw himself into it. He didn’t have any friends to distract him anyway. Things had exploded multiple times, but Draco was used to having protective shields around him. The first time it happened, it blew Flitwick and Draco across the room. Flitwick started to laugh, causing Draco to laugh, and they both laughed themselves silly before cleaning up and trying again.

It turned out weaving protective charms into copper, leather and other bits needed actual weaving, and the patience of Job. Draco had that. The first piece he created was small, a bracelet. It was a simple shield charm that would activate if someone shot an unfriendly hex. It wouldn’t protect against something too dark, but it would anything mild.

Flitwick insisted on wearing it to test it out. Draco was nervous when he shot the hex, but was relieved when it bounced off harmlessly.

“Well done Draco!” Flitwick clapped excitedly, “If you can get more expensive material, I bet you could figure out how to do more than a shield charm.” He said as he took off the bracelet.

That got Draco thinking about the hordes of jewelry back at the Manor that collected dust. He was thinking about making a list as he plopped down his bag in DADA. He pulled out a roll of parchment and a quill.

“Hey.” Luna said, sitting next to him. She sat next to him in all the classes they shared. Draco wasn’t quite sure why, but he didn’t mind.

“Hey Loony.” Draco said with a smile, and Luna laughed, “You weren’t in charms.”

“I was helping Hermione. She left early for spring break.”

“Lucky her.” Draco frowned. It was the last class before spring break, and DADA couldn’t end quick enough. Draco was disappointed to find out Isaac was going to visit his family and wouldn’t be at the castle. But it was ok, Draco would be fine on his own. And his mother agreed to come up to visit him in Hogsmeade.

The DADA professor got up and started spewing her normal nonsense, so Draco kept daydreaming out the different jewelry he could make. He wanted to make things for men and women, and with equal protectiveness. Certain gems could hold better spells, so he would have to make jewelry for men that appealed more to them. He frowned, sketching an idea into his notebook.

“A demonstration!” Professor Lutz demanded. Draco wanted to roll his eyes, but kept staring at his parchment. And just like clockwork, “Potter!” Draco swore he could time it. She nearly always picked him to demonstrate.

“Professor—shouldn’t someone else try?” It surprised Draco that Potter tried to deflect to someone else. Not because Draco thought he wanted to be center of attention, but because it hadn’t worked all year. Potter had tried at first, but slowly stopped after he realized it wouldn’t do anything.

“Nonsense!—

“Professor please I—

“Come on up Harry.” She encouraged, her smile too bright. Draco looked around. Did no one else notice Potter’s voice? He sounded shaky. Luna was distracted with her own notes, “Now, in this exercise you and your partner will take turns. You must be ready to fight while injured, or have a quick response time. To train, we will set up in pairs. I want you, Harry, to stand still and let the first curse hit you, and then respond. I’ll use a mild stinging hex.”

“Yeah.” Potter whispered. Draco could tell he was terrified. It didn’t make sense. He wanted to see if anyone else _noticed_ but everyone was just sitting there. Draco grasped the edge of his desk, not quite sure what to do. Should he get up?

“On the count of three Harry. One, two, three.” Potter looked like his eyes were closed, he almost looked peaceful as the stinging hex hit his arm. He responded just a half second later than he usually did, blasting Lutz back with a stun charm that nearly threw her across the room.

“Very good Harry!” Lutz beamed, though her blonde hair was a little out of place. Potter nodded, sitting down in his chair. The class wasn’t really paying attention, because no one really did. Potter sat down so heavy in his chair it slid a bit, but he didn’t seem to notice. Draco kept his eyes on him. He kept rubbing his legs, but the movement didn’t disguise how bad he was shaking.

They divided up into pairs, Draco with Luna. Draco moved with one eye on Potter as he slipped to the back and managed not to get paired, walking out of the classroom. His face was pale and he looked horrible.

“Luna I—

“Go.” Luna nodded her head to the door. Her brow furrowed.

“Maybe you should—” Draco whispered, but Luna was already shaking her head. He turned away from her and headed out the door. He turned around a bit outside the classroom and didn’t immediately see Potter.

Where would he go?

Gryffindor Common room was too far, the secret study room and the Room of Requirement Potter’d have to walk through the main hall to get there, and Draco was sure he wouldn’t want to do that.

Myrtle’s bathroom.

Draco pivoted and ran down the hallway. The bathroom was quiet as he walked in, which was suspicious enough. Usually Myrtle was loudly crying about death. He heard her softly murmuring and then someone threw up. Draco hurried around the corner to see Potter bracing against the toilet.

“Potter.” Draco called his name. He jumped, throwing himself back against the wall and grabbing his wand. For a second Draco was thrown into a memory not quite so different than this one. It made him feel that desperation so innately, it was like no time had passed. Potter’s eyes were wide with fear. Draco threw up his hands, “Just me.” Because this time was _different_. This time they could just be Potter and Malfoy.

“Fuck.” Potter groaned.

“You’re alright.” Draco knelt down beside him.

“He doesn’t look good.” Myrtle whispered beside him.

“Do you mind making sure no one else comes in here Myrtle?” Draco asked.

“Ok.” She was always willing to help him after the past year, and less dramatic. Draco grabbed a broken tile from the ground and transfigured it into a cup, then filled it with spelled it full water. Potter couldn’t hold the cup without it sloshing he was shaking so severely.

“C-can I h-h-h-hold your h-h-h-and?” Potter asked, “I-I know it’s—

“Yes.” Draco held out his hand. Potter grabbed onto it more tightly than Draco thought. He sipped his water with his right hand, and Draco cast a cleaning charm over him—and a teeth scrubbing one.

“Y-y-you c-c-c-cl--cleaned my teeth?”

“You probably have horrible breath from throwing up.” Draco said, sitting down next to him, pulling his legs up to his chest and then frowned, “Sorry, that was probably an arse thing to do.”

Potter shook his head, still holding onto his hand. Draco wanted to conjure a blanket too, Potter was shaking that severely. Draco hauled his arm closer into his lap, holding Potter’s one hand with both of his.

“What brought this on?” Draco asked, it usually helped him to talk about it.

“I-I-I ca-c-can’t.” Potter stuttered.

“Salazar Potter, you don’t _have_ to.” Draco whispered, “It just makes me feel better when I talk about it.”

“Y-y-y—” Potter made an angry noise, but it sounded too sad to be furious. He let out a harsh breath, “Y-y-you g-g-get like thi-this?” 

“Yeah—well, not exactly.” He placed Potter’s hand to his knee, “Hold onto that for a sec.” He unbuttoned his sleeves and pushed them up. He had messed up once since he started using the pens, but otherwise was doing well. Potter took in a soft breath when he saw all the scars up and down his arms. He wound his fingers almost immediately through Draco’s open hand again, but still stared at the self-harm scars, “Was it because of the stinging hex?” Draco asked, knowing it was what Granger hit him with when they came to the Manor.

Potter shook his head a bit too violently, “N-n-n-no.” He bit his lip, “I-I-I had to—I-I-I went—F-f-forest and V-v-v—fuck—Riddle—” The shaking became more severe again.

“It’s ok.” Draco rubbed his thumb along the back of Potter’s hand, covering it with his opposite hand again.

Potter sighed, his head back against the wall, “I h-h-hate this.”

“I know.” Draco said, looking down at Potter’s hand in his own. It was strange to see the contrast between Harry’s skin and his own, “I had a panic attack in front of Flitwick in the beginning of the year, that’s why I went to Isaac.” Draco wanted to prove he knew what Potter felt like. That it was alright to want comfort from Draco, because Draco knew when he was like that he would take support from just about anyone.

Potter nodded, “I s-saw y-you there.”

“Having a panic attack?”

“N-n-no, Isaac’s office. I-I-I th-th-thought if y-y-you were there—”

“So you could go to.” Draco finished.

“’Mione’d been been tell-telling me to g-g-go.”

“Have your panic attacks gotten better?”

Potter nodded instantly, waving his arm with the cup in it and water sloshed out. Draco wasn’t sure how there was still water in the cup, “Th-this used to h-h-happen ev-ev-every day.”

“ _That’s_ why you look so skinny.” Draco said, clicking into place why Potter looked like he was still on the run. Potter scowled, “I mean, I don’t know why I said that.” He did know why he said that—it’s because he had been watching him all the time.

“Er—‘s al-al-alright.” Potter had a small smile.

“I guess old habits die hard?” Draco smiled at Potter, who smiled back. His face looked less deathly pale now and his body wasn’t as tense, but he still had a death grip on Draco’s hand and was shaking, “I got an idea—Winky?”

“Master Draco.” She appeared, “Master Harry!” She looked distressed, “Yous don’t look good at all, should Winky get Madam Pumfrey?”

“N-n-n-no!” Potter looked distressed.

“Winky, I need you to do something very important for Potter.”

“Anything!”

“In Isaac’s living quarters, there is a bunch of cardboard boxes on his counter top by the refrigerator. I need you to bring us one with the brownies inside—ok?”

“Ok!” She disappeared with a crack.

“S-s-stealing.” Potter said, but he looked amused.

“Isaac said we can come to him if we need anything. And I think you _need_ a brownie.” Potter snorted, but didn’t say anything.

The crack of Winky returning made Potter jump, pushing back into the wall again, “F-f-fuck.” He held Draco’s hand tightly and his breath came in shallow.

“Here’s it is sirs.” Winky put down the cardboard box.

“Thank you Winky. Could you also bring us some herbal tea? And if you don’t mind, will you apparate outside the bathroom and walk in? Tell Myrtle I said you could.”

“Ok.” She looked worried as she stared at Harry and slowly walked out of the room.

As soon as she was out of sight, Potter let go of him and heaved into the toilet. The sound made Draco want to wrinkle his nose, but he resisted in case Potter looked at him.

“Sorry, I should have thought about the crack. I know you don’t like loud noises.” Draco rubbed his back a bit, like his Mum used to do when he was sick. Potter wiped his face rid of tears as he sat back and Draco used another cleaning charm—including his teeth. Potter laughed a bit, sitting back against the stone wall again. He reached out with his other hand, and Draco wove his fingers through.

“I-I-I n-n-n-” Potter huffed.

Draco grinned a bit, “A speechless Potter? And they say dreams don’t come true.” He quirked his lips so Potter knew he was kidding. Potter huffed his laugh, smiling. They were quiet for a bit, Potter taking deep breaths.

“Master Draco?” Winky peaked around the corner, floating a tea tray in front of her.

“Thank you Winky.” Draco said sincerely, “You’ve been a big help.”

“Winky is a good elf.”

“You are, I’ll be sure to call you if Potter needs anything.” She nodded fiercely before walking out of the room.

Draco waved his wand, pouring two cups of tea, “Milk?” He looked to Harry who shook his head, “Sugar?” A strong nod, so Draco poured in until Potter nudged him to stop. He made his own cup of tea before sitting back again. Potter still had a tight grip on his hand, breathing deeply as they drank their tea. Draco’s arse hurt from the stone floors, and he was a bit cold. But he wasn’t going to say anything.

It was good for Draco to help Potter. He suddenly realized how little other people were judging him when he had his own panic attacks. Draco didn’t feel any sort of judgment toward Potter, only empathy and a desire to help, though he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He realized the uneasiness he saw in people before wasn’t judgment, it was caution. They didn’t know how handle the situation, though they wanted to help.

“Brownie?” Draco asked, pointing to the box. Potter nodded eagerly, so Draco grabbed the box with his left hand. He moved so he was cross legged and balanced the box on his knee so he could open it with one hand. There were two brownies inside. He opened the box more so it folded down completely, and Draco moved the box so it was on his opposite knee between them. Potter took a small piece of his own brownie and ate it.

“R-r-r-Remus always r-r-rec-r-recommend-recommended cho-chocolate.” Potter smiled sadly as he ate another piece.

“So did Severus.” Draco said with a small smile of his own. They both ate in silence for awhile, munching away at their brownies and drinking tea.

“I-I n-notice you too.” Potter said out of the blue.

“You do?” Draco couldn’t help but ask.

Potter nodded, “You don’t—y-y-you—” Potter huffed again, his cheeks turning red.

“It’s ok.” Draco bumped him with his shoulder, “You can tell me about me later.” Potter smiled, “I’ll tell you about you.” Draco sipped on his tea, not sure if this was a good idea or not, but Potter looked intrigued. He grabbed a bit of his brownie and ate it before Potter nudged him to continue, “I noticed you weren’t as OK as everyone thinks you are almost as soon as you got here. Well, maybe not _everyone_. The Weasel and Granger probably know, but not everyone else.”

Potter’s eyes were on him, but Draco tried not to look at him straight on. His eyes were always too piercing for him, “You’re too skinny for someone who is healthy. Your clothes always hang on you, though I am positive you can afford a better fit. You rub your legs when your nervous and try to calm yourself down, and you sit down too heavy in your chair when you do something you don’t want too—like when Lutz has you volunteer.” Potter frowned, but Draco figured he was frowning about Lutz and not about him.

“I didn’t notice the stutter until we had dinner at Isaac’s.” Draco confessed, “When he came in and scared you, you stuttered a bit. I thought you had stuttered in the past because of nerves.” Draco took a bite of brownie, “I also had no idea you could be funny until the day we went to Hogsmeade with Lindsey.” That got a smile, and Draco was happy it did.

“Y-you don’t like to be touched.” Potter said, his voice was soft but steady, “Y-you al-always sit one chair op-open so people don’t don’t touch you. Y-you wait after ev-everyone leaves to go.” Draco wanted to curl up in on himself. Potter always had a way of making him feel exposed. Particularly in this bathroom, “I-I-I didn’t m-mean to—”

“No I started it.” Draco scowled, “Just a difficult topic, obviously.”

“I-I-I’m sup-supposed to b-be happy.” Potter whispered.

Something clenched around Draco’s heart. At least if Draco wasn’t smiling, no one asked him why he wasn’t. People left him alone. The same could not be said for Potter.

“You’ll get there.” Draco told him, confidant he would. If anyone could, it would be Potter, “But you better get going, the train is going to leave for break soon.”

“’M staying h-here.”

“Why? No Weasel den to go back to?”

Potter snorted, “N-no. R-R-Ron and M-Mione are in Australia v-v-visiting her par-parents. A-a-and A-arthur and Molly are v-v-v-fucking _hell_ —visiting! Charlie.”

“Funny how the curses always come out without stuttering.” Potter flipped him two fingers with his free hand, “Well, Slytherin isn’t too far away from here. Want to have dinner there? No one came back my year, so it’s empty.” Draco felt a bit awkward as soon as he extended the invitation, but he couldn’t take it back.

“Y-yeah!” Potter sounded happy, “B-b-b-but I’m n-n-not r-r-ready t-t-t— _god damn it_ —leave” He was pressing himself up into the stone wall.

“That’s ok.” Draco said easily, “I’m not done drinking my tea.”

Potter let out a shaky breath, nodding.

“I heard you’re about to take over Granger in Transfiguration.”

Potter grinned a bit triumphantly, “McGonagall s-s-said th-this sp-spring t-test made made me n-number one.”

“And I thought you were going to let Hermione and I duke it out for number one?”

“Th-that’s in ch-ch-ch- _charms_.”

“You’re still awfully close to both of us in that class too.”

Potter grinned, “N-n-not compe-competing with you-you two.” Draco poured each of them more tea.

“Why don’t you want to win? Too scared?”

Potter snorted, “When-when I win, th-then y-you won’t s-see me come-coming.”

Draco chortled, “So it’s just a strategy, very Slytherin of you Potter.”

“I was al-almost sort-sorted in-into Slytherin.”

Draco’s heart nearly stopped, he moved so he was pivoted to face Potter but still holding his hand, “ _What?_ ”

“I-I was!” His dark cheeks were pink as Draco stared at him, “I d-didn’t wan-want to be in S-Slytherin, so I-I-I told the-the H-Hat to p-p-p-p- _merlin’s beard-_ put me in Gryffindor.”

“But you can’t argue with the hat. It tells _you_ where to go.”

Potter shrugged, “He said I’d d-d-do g-great things in Slytherin, but I-I-I said no. So h-he said Gryffindor.”

“Circe’s tits.” Draco waved his arm, sloshing his tea a bit, “That’s fucking nuts.”

“It’s wh-why I-I-I thought I-I-I m-might _s-s-supposed_ to b-be in Slytherin second year, but the-the hat was w-wrong.”

“Well of course it was bloody wrong!” Draco threw his hands a bit wide and sloshed more tea, “You’re the most Gryffindor _Gryffindor_ _ever_.”

“N-not quite.” Potter grinned, “I-I always w-want to p-prove myself, am-ambitious, and-and have a cer-certain dis-disregard f-for the r-rules.”

“Not a bad mind either.” Draco thought.

“Th-that’s what the hat said.”

“Meanwhile the hat didn’t even touch _my_ head.” Draco frowned, wondering if that’s why everything horrible had happened to him. What would have happened if he were in a different house?

“Prob-probably be-because y-you _wanted_ it s-so much.” Potter argued. Draco furrowed his brow, probably right on that bit too.

“So you’re saying if I was open to different options, I might have been sorted differently.”

“Y-yes.”

“Interesting thought, not sure if I believe you.” Draco grinned and Potter laughed.

“If-if you couldn’t be in S-Slytherin, which h-house?”

“Ravenclaw.” Draco answered solidly, “I’d eat the Hufflepuffs alive.”

Potter laughed, “T-true.”

“What about you?” Draco asked.

Potter smirked, “Slytherin.”

Draco laughed, then abruptly stopped, “No one is ever going to believe me when I tell them you said that.” Potter laughed at that.

“I-I think we can head back to your h-house now.” Potter said, moving to stand up.

“Oh, finally. My arse hurts.” Draco grinned so Potter knew he was teasing. He cleaned up the dishes with a wave of his wand. They walked not too far down the steps into the dungeons. The castle was pretty empty since all the students were leaving to go home for spring break.

“You’re n-not going home?” Potter asked as Draco said the password and the door swung open.

“No.” Draco frowned, “Mum’s coming up to visit me though.”

“Th-that’s good—how is yo-your Mum?” They walked through the common room and to the steps for the boys dorm rooms. Draco was on the top floor, since he was a eighth year.

“She’s well.” Draco said, though he wasn’t sure why Potter cared.

“This has as many steps as Grimmauld.” Potter whinged behind him.

“We’re almost to the top.” Draco promised, going up the last spiral staircase. Draco pushed open the door, hoping the elves had cleaned his room while he was gone. They had, thank goodness.

“Wow.” Potter said, disregarding the room to look out the large windows that overlooked the lake.

“Best part of being a seventh year is the view. The steps below are all under the lake. They have murky views, and you can sometimes see a mermaid—but this is definitely the best. First year is the worst because you only ever see seaweed.”

“This is beautiful.” Potter said, walking up and reaching out to touch the window, but his fingers hovered over the glass panes and never touched them. The fireplace was roaring in the corner, as it was a chilly day in spring.

“What do you overlook?”

“The forbidden forest. It’s beautiful too.” Potter turned back to look at him just as his stomach growled.

“Should I call an elf?” Draco asked. Potter nodded, “Want to silence yourself so you can’t hear?” Potter nodded, reaching into his pocket for his wand. He tapped his head and then gave Draco the OK symbol.

“Winky?” Draco called, and she popped into the room.

“Yes sir?”

“Dinner please, for Potter and I.”

“Is Master Harry being wanting his usual meal after he’s upset.” Winky turned to Harry.

“Yes please Winky.” Potter looked relieved.

“What is it?”

“Indian food.” Potter smiled, “Any kind I can get my hands on.”

“I’ve never had it.” Draco admitted.

“Winky will make a bunch! That way Master Draco can try everything!”

“That’s not—” There was a loud crack as she disappeared, “Necessary.” Draco looked to Potter, who was shaking a bit.

“I’m o-okay.” He said firmly, turning to the window again. He looked around, standing on his toes, “It looks like it’s a balcony.”

“I know. I can’t find a door outside though.” Draco lamented.

Potter frowned, taking out his wand again.

“Don’t break my windows!” Draco cried out.

“I’m not, give me a second.” Potter said, drawing his wand in an arc then tapping the glass with his wand again. The glass rippled. Potter frowned a bit, shrugged, then stepped forward. He passed through the glass and stepped outside with a grin on his face.

“What spell did you use?” Draco asked, following him outside.

“It’s a passing spell—kind of like what’s on platform 9¾.”

“Impressive.” Draco said, watching Harry puff up like a peacock, “Oh don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” Potter grinned.

It was a little chilly outside, but the two made due. They made a small fire pit with a warming charm to keep out the chill, and then they conjured two chairs to sit in. The end result was wonderful. Winky brought out their food and then the two sat outside with a bunch of different bowls of food—way too much for two people. There was rice, and bread—then a bunch of stuff Draco didn’t think looked appetizing.

“Potter, this looks like throw up.” Draco said, scrunching up his nose as he looked at everything. He had put on a sweater, since even with the warming charm it was a bit too cold to sit outside in an oxford shirt. He let Potter borrow one as well, the only grey colored sweater he had. It was a nice three-quarter zip that Draco was ashamed to say probably looked better on Potter than him.

Potter snorted, “It tastes better, I promise.”

He was right. Draco sort of got lost as Potter explained each of the dishes, but nodded along. Some had chicken, and some had something called paneer, which was a cheese that Draco had never heard of before. They had stuff that was green, and stuff that was orange—but it all sort of looked like throw up. But it tasted _delicious_. Draco wasn’t sure what he was eating half the time, but he knew he liked it. And the naan, and the rice.

Draco ate until he couldn’t anymore, then rested a bit, then ate some more. The sun had set over the lake, and the two chatted along like they were two old friends. Potter had his feet up on the railing overlooking the lake. He talked with his hands a lot, which was difficult to do while eating Indian food. Potter said the real way to eat it was with your hands, but Draco didn’t believe him. He had just laughed and used his naan like a spoon, the barbarian.

“Sometimes I miss camping.” Potter said with a sigh, looking up at the stars.

“You go camping?” Draco asked.

“Last year, I lived in a tent.”

“Oh.” Draco whispered.

“It was awful, but being outside where you can see the stars was nice.”

“Well, there are much more comfortable ways to view the stars without living in a tent.” Draco told him.

Potter snorted.

“Master’s be wanting dessert not?” Winky asked, sticking her head out.

“Yes please!” Draco said excitedly.

“I make masters hot chocolate and brought marsh mellows to roast.”

“Thank you Winky, this is perfect.”

“I’s is going to bed now Master Harry.”

“Ok—thank you Winky.” Potter eagerly grabbed the tray.

“Yum. S’mores!” Draco grabbed a stick and poked the marsh mellow.

“You know about s’mores?”

“Yes” Draco said, holding his marsh mellow above the flame.

“I thought it was a muggle thing.”

“I think it is—one of my family’s elves showed me when I was young. Lipsy—she came from a muggle born house before we had her.” Draco explained, “She showed me. Father apparently was mad, I didn’t find that out until later though.”

Potter was quiet.

“What?” Draco asked, scowling.

“What was it like—growing up there?”

“It wasn’t always horrible.” Draco said, “I loved being home. My parents aren’t _monsters_.”

“I-I know that.” Potter said, frowning at his marsh mellow, “The Prophet—I know it made them out to be monsters. But they’re not. They make it seem like it was so _obvious_. The sides were so clear. But it wasn’t like that either.”

Draco relaxed, “Yeah. Growing up there was great. My parents were strict about bed times and tutoring, but otherwise I could really do whatever I wanted. I always had the latest brooms, or the newest toys. I never wanted for anything.”

“Did they play with you?”

Draco tensed again, but he figured he should be honest. Potter had that puppy dog Gryffindor look on his face, and Draco found it difficult to lie to it, “No. My parents weren’t—aren’t really— _play_ people. They had the house elves play with me as they watched. They weren’t touch people either. There were no hugs, no kisses—none of that sort of thing.”

“Is that why you—?”

“No.” Draco scowled at the fireplace.

“My family—the muggles who raised me—didn’t love me at all.” Potter turned red, like he didn’t mean to blurt out that information but didn’t want Draco to be uncomfortable.

“My parents love me.” Draco snapped, glaring at Potter.

“I know they do—or at least your Mum.” Potter ate a marsh mellow.

“You didn’t speak for my Dad at his trial.”

“No.” Potter’s expression darkened, “I wouldn’t.”

“He’s not a monster!”

“He tried to murder me more than once!” Potter glared at Draco, “The first time I was only _twelve_.”

Fuck. That was so little.

“He wasn’t shit to me.” Draco whispered.

“No he wasn’t, but—he—he’s not a nice person.”

That was putting it mildly, “I know Potter—I just—he’s still my father.”

Potter frowned, pulled off the marsh mellow he had been roasting, plopped it on a graham cracker with chocolate and handed it to Draco. Draco saw the peace offering and took it, relaxing his shoulders a bit as he did. He found he didn’t actually _want_ to fight with Potter.

“When is your Mum coming here?”

“She will be in Hogsmeade three days from now.” The day after the one-year mark from when—when he was—when Draco was—yeah, but it seemed better to have her come up the day after.

“That will be nice.”

“I’m excited. I haven’t seen her since the fall.” Potter nodded, licking off melted chocolate from his finger, “We write often—well, more now than before. Isaac helped with that.”

“He’s helped me talk more with the Weasley’s too.” Potter nodded, “So I can communicate what I want.”

“What you want?” Draco didn’t understand. Shouldn’t Potter get whatever he wanted now?

“There’s a lot of expectations now—since everything. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. Part of the reason why I came back to Hogwarts was to avoid those conversations. When will Ginny and I get back together? When do I start the auror program? I just sorta—pushed those questions away for a year.”

“The Prophet said you two were back together.”

“We got lunch in Hogsmeade to catch up and the paper called it proof.” Potter scowled and rolled his eyes.

“What’s stopping you?”

“I—I don’t know.” Potter sounded broken about it

“Mother and Father want me to pick a pureblood witch out of a line up and marry her.” Draco volunteered.

“E-even after everything?” Potter sounded incredulous, which made Draco snort.

“You’d think they’d lay off, but our house remains strict to old traditions.” Draco said with a scowl.

“Will you do it?” Potter asked, and a jolt of fear burst through Draco.

“I-I don’t want to.” He whispered,

“Why?”

“ _Why?”_ Draco sputtered, “Why would I? It’s _insane_! I just have to walk into a room with a line of girls and _assume_ I’ll be compatible with one of them? That’s fucking nuts! And they’d be wrong, cause I don’t like girls anyway.” He froze, looking at Potter.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Potter told him instantly.

Draco sighed, “It’s—it’s fine. I’m not trying to hide it, sort of. I’m just not telling people.”

Potter nodded, “I get that.”

“You’re gay?” Draco asked, not able to keep the shock out of his voice.

Potter laughed, his head tossed back a bit, “No, I’m bi.”

“How do you know?” Draco was curious if Potter had ever hooked up with a boy but didn’t want to straight up ask him.  

“Well, it’s kinda a weird story.” Draco waited, looking at him to explain, “Ginny and I got back together, sort of, right after—everything.” Potter looked uncomfortable, rubbing his arms a bit. Draco waved his wand and two blankets came out, one landing on each of their lap. Potter said thank you as he pulled his legs up to his chest and snuggled into the blanket, “We didn’t really talk about it, so I don’t really know what we were. But she was allowed to see other people, and so was I—but I didn’t really. I was too—I didn’t want to leave home, and all she wanted to do was party. Grief affects everyone differently, but I felt like we were on two opposite ends of the spectrum.

“I was sleeping with her sometimes, but she—I knew she was sleeping around. I didn’t really care much because it didn’t really feel like we were together. Then she convinced Ron and Mione to go out all together one night—to get out. Mione was surprisingly down for it. We all pregamed at my house and went to a muggle club.” Potter shrugged, “Ginny met up with some friends there too, so it was me Ron and Mione at the bar, having a good time. Some guy started talking to me, I didn’t realize at the time he was chatting me up. I had a few drinks more and he asked me to dance—I told him I was terrible but followed him anyway. Then I dunno—we were on the dance floor, we were making out, he pulled my cock out—”

“On the dance floor?” Draco asked, scandalized. How had this not made the news?

“Have you been to a muggle club?”

“No.” Draco sniffed, “not saying I wouldn’t go, I just—I don’t know what it is.”

“Oh! It’s a bar, but there’s music, it’s almost pitch black. Really loud music, with a deep base. They play it through speakers, not with instruments. More like the weird sisters in terms of type of music? I guess?” Potter scrunched his nose, “But everyone wears sexy outfits, drinks, and basically grinds on each other to dance.”

Draco blanched, “That is—never tell Pansy. She would never leave a club.” He shook his head, “So your cock out?”

“Was no big deal” Potter laughed, “It’s dark anyway, strobe lights—they kinda flash. Anyway—I was getting him off too—

“It doesn’t sound like you have any question on whether you’re bisexual or not.”

Potter snorted, “No. I liked him very much too. Then Ginny saw me making out with him—after our cocks were away thank Merlin. She lost her shit, claimed I was cheating on her. We went back to my house and screamed at each other for awhile, then I threw her out.”

“How were you cheating?”

“Apparently it was ok for her, but not ok for me.” Harry scowled, “She said it was a way for her to blow off steam from-from everything. And basically I should just sit put, like she had done for me when I had gone gallivanting off for a year.” Potter’s tone revealed what he thought of _that_ argument, “I told her to get the fuck out of my house.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Which is why I don’t really go to the Weasley’s as much. They know the whole story, but it’s still a bit awkward because she get’s so angry.” Potter ran his fingers through his hair, “now all the Harpies hate me because they say I cheated on her. But we caught up last week, and we’re better now. Not great—but better.” Potter looked at him, “what about you?”

“I’ve known my whole life—I just knew it wasn’t allowed.” Draco said, pulling his legs up to his chest a bit tighter, “I learned to hide it, not talk about it, not acknowledge it.”

“Your parents?”

“Would be furious—well, my father would be. My mother would just suggest to ignore it. She’s good at that—ignoring things.” Draco frowned, he didn’t want to talk poorly about his mother, so he shook his head to clear it a bit, “I feel like after—everything—” to use Potter’s term, “it’d be disingenuous not to be out, or at least try to figure everything out. And with Father in Azkaban, well it’s not like he’ll be around to stop me.”

“Good for you.” Harry grinned, then yawned, “What time is it?”

Draco spelled the time, “A little past one.”

“Holy shit.”

“I had no idea it was that late.” Draco frowned, he couldn’t believe that much time went by with _Potter_ and he still was having a good time.

“Do you mind if I grab one of the extra beds in here?” Potter asked, “I don’t want to walk all the way back to Gryffindor tower.”

“Sure—there’s plenty of beds.” All empty because no one from Draco’s year came back. And sure, the new seventh years could have joined him, but they all stayed down in sixth year level. There were only two of them that returned anyway, and both of them were too frightened of Draco.

Potter stood and cracked his back.

“Gross!” Draco scrunched his nose.

“You sound like Hermione.” Potter laughed.

They walked through the glass and back into the room. Potter pulled off his jeans and the sweater he borrowed, climbing into bed. Draco definitely _didn’t_ look as he changed into his own pajamas.

“Night Malfoy.”

“Goodnight.” Draco responded, curling up on his stomach to sleep.

There was a little spark in him that fluttered as he tried to go to sleep. He couldn’t believe _Potter_ had stayed to talk—and they both had lost time talking to one another. It was wonderful to have company and a _friend_. Or he hoped they would be friends. 

Draco fell asleep with a smile on his face.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNINGS****
> 
> This has a flashback of Draco's attack. It does NOT go into horribly explicit detail, but it has very clear implications.
> 
> PTSD descriptions

 Screaming woke him up. Draco grabbed his wand and spun around, ready for an attack only to find Potter alone. Draco pressed his hand against his racing heart, hopping out of bed.

“Potter.” Draco called to him, but he only twitched then let out a small yell. His hair was flat against his head, his brow tightly drawn. Draco moved closer, feeling a bit awkward, “Potter!” He said loudly.

“No! _Please_.” Potter begged, his voice sounding visceral. Draco shook his arm a bit, but Potter didn’t wake. Draco shoved him again, but Potter only moved away from him.

“Potter!” Draco shouted again, shaking him.

“ _NO_!” He yelled, wrenching out of his grasp as his eyes snapped open. They were white with fear and alarming without his glasses on. Potter pulled away from him, curling into a ball against the headboard.

“It’s me.” Draco said calmly, though his heart was racing as well.

Potter stared at him for a moment before recognition came over him. He turned away from Draco in obvious embarrassment and shame, putting his hands over his head and tucking his head between his knees.

“F-fuck.” Potter grumbled.

“It’s alright Potter. I get nightmares too.” Draco told him. The bed was drenched in sweat and Potter was shaking like a leaf.

“It-it’s dif-different.” Potter stuttered.

“How on earth is it different?” Draco asked with a scowl.

“I-I-I—fucking _Christ_ —I’m li-like a f-fuck-fucking ch-ch-child.”

“Well if you get nightmares and think you’re a child, I don’t understand how I’m any different. You’re not that special Potter.” Draco glared at him.

Potter huffed, looking up at Draco with a glare, “I-I-I can’t sleep alone!” He rubbed his face, “N-not of-often. Isaac is-is is helping me.” Draco was quiet as Potter stared at his knees, “I sl-sleep with ‘M-‘M-‘Mione at H-Hogwarts. It s-started this sum-summer. I-I-I’d sleep w-w-with R-R-Ron. L-L-Like a child.” It was quiet as the information sunk in. Potter looked so young curled up into himself and Draco’s heart ached.

Draco let out a slow breath, “Potter, that you’re not in a loony bin after all you’ve been through is nothing short of a miracle. That sometimes you have horrible nightmares that mean you have to sleep with your friends is not the worst thing. And your friends are kind enough to let you.” Draco thought for a moment, “Hogwarts lets you into the girl’ s dorms?”

Potter nodded, “I needed t-to-to, and and H-H-Hogwarts let me u-u-up the s-s-s-steps. H-help is al-always giv-given at H-H-Hogwarts t-to those who d-d-deserve it.” Draco frowned, looking away. Guess he didn’t deserve help his sixth year. Of course he didn’t deserve it. He _imperiused_ a woman, helped death eaters into Hogwarts, nearly killed Katy Bell _and_ Weasley.  Something touched his arm and he flinched away, “I-I didn’t-I didn’t mean it l-like that.” Potter moved to sit next to Draco though he didn’t try to touch Draco again.

“Well, I’m not sure I would have deserved help anyway.”

“You d-did.” Potter said strongly, his jaw pointed out like he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Draco bit his lip, “Well come on then, it’s only seven, we can get a few more hours of sleep before breakfast.” Draco hopped up, trying not to think about what Potter said much even though it made him want to scratch his arm. When he hopped back into bed, he looked over at Potter, “Are you coming?”

The look of relief went across Potter’s face that was palpable. He scrambled out of bed and cast a cleaning spell on himself before lying down in the bed. Draco’s heart was aching, so he kept his face away and tried to ignore Potter.

“Malfoy?” Potter called to him.

“Hm?” He didn’t want to roll over to face him.

“I d-d-didn’t m-m-mean it like like that.” Potter whispered, “It’s some-something I s-say to com-to comfort myself and it isn’t f-fair to you.”

“It _is_ fair.” Draco argued.

“No it’s not!” Potter snapped back, “Y-y-y-y- _Merlin_ ” Potter took a deep breath, trying to center himself before he tried to speak again, “Th-that year, ‘M-‘Mione s-said to me that y-y-y-you didn’t look well.” Potter looked at him with piercing green eyes without his glasses. Draco wanted to curl up close to him when he looked like that—it was like he could take on anything, “I knew-I-I-I-I knew you w-were s-s-struggling. An-and n-n-no one help-helped. I-I-I wish I t-t-tried.”

“Of course you wish you tried, you bloody Gryffindor.” Draco said, emotion caught in his throat. It wasn’t an apology, but it was an acknowledgement that what Draco thought was true. He hated that he thought that sometimes, because he didn’t try to get himself out of the situation either. But he wished someone offered him help—an out. Potter grinned at him, and Draco smiled back, “Thank you.”

Potter nodded his head, and then fell back on the pillow. Draco tucked his arm under the pillow and closed his eyes. He could hear Potter’s steady breathing as he fell back asleep.

 

For some reason, waking up a few hours later wasn’t even a bit awkward. Draco and Potter went down to the Quidditch Pitch after eating breakfast and played for hours. Neither one was allowed on the house teams due to their age, so they both were a bit rusty.

And _of_ _course_ Potter was the better player.

If Draco was honest with himself, Potter was always a better player. But being one on one instead of with a team, it showed even more. Especially now that Draco didn’t play dirty—most of the time. Potter caught the snitch of the six times they played, five. Draco did rub it in Potter’s face the one time he managed to catch the snitch first, and all Potter did was laugh.

Draco’s heart fluttered every time Potter laughed. He was so excited to have a friend he could joke with that he could hardly believe it. They ate outside by the Quidditch pitch for lunch and then played more after. Draco was sweaty and gross by the time they went to the Great Hall for dinner. There was only a small table there since there were about twenty people at Hogwarts.

“You looked like you were havin’ fun.” Hagrid said, sitting down next to Potter.

“We were.” Potter’s eyes were bright and Draco wondered if he looked the same. Potter looked windswept and there was mud on him since it had rained at some point during the night and one particular battle for the snitch had landed with them both on the ground. Draco just had some grass stains, but Potter had landed in the mud—holding the snitch of course.

Dinner was wonderful and no one talked to him like he had been a Death Eater. Even Professor Sprout talked to him, which hadn’t happened all year. It had never seemed vindictive to Draco, but a conscious effort not to acknowledge his presence.

Potter and Draco went back to Draco’s room again. They sat on the balcony until late again, laughing and joking with each other before going to bed again. Separately.

 

_All Draco could hear was grunting. All he could feel was pain. He didn’t understand why this was happening or exactly what was happening, even though he_ knew _. His lungs felt caught, like he couldn’t take a deep breath. Each second felt dragged out as his heart collapsed in on itself._

_Tears threatened in his eyes, but even they didn’t want to move. Because his body was frozen._

_The grunting behind him stopped with a long groan and a twitch._

_“Fuckin good for something at least.” He said gruffly. There was a soft pat on his ass, which was weird considering how much pain he was in. Draco couldn’t breathe as he stumbled out of the room. Draco didn’t move as he waited for him to come back, terrified he would. He couldn’t move for too long. Couldn’t feel anything. He wasn’t exactly sure if this was real._

_It took forever to finally roll over and pull up his trousers, and by then his movements were frantic._

_Draco practically ran up to his room and slammed the door shut._

Draco shot up straight in his bed. He flicked on a light with his wand without thinking.

One year ago today.

He didn’t want really want to think about today like that, but he couldn’t quite help it. The sun was above the horizon but it was still early. Draco glanced to Potter who was passed out. Draco grit his teeth, feeling his skin itch.

He crawled out of bed without thinking and walked into the bathroom. Draco turned on the shower and stepped inside without undressing. He wanted not to feel like this. He wanted to feel _clean_.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut as tears threatened.

Why him? Why did this have to happen to him? Why in the cosmic scheme of things did he have to have this burden? Was this payback for all his past misdeeds? Draco directed the spray towards the wall before sitting down against it. He kept his legs tucked up into himself as he let himself cry. He did it as silently as possible. The sobs hurt as they came out. They felt like they were too large for his chest, burning as they escaped. Draco clutched the back of his head with his hands, crying into his knees.

“S-stupid.” Draco whispered to himself, trying not to think about what happened to him even though it was all he could think about.

“Malfoy?” Potter called to him.

“N-No.” Draco shook his head, panic blazed through him.

“Draco.” Potter said his name and Draco couldn’t help but let loose a sob. He kept his head covered as Potter sat down next to him.

“Still think you’re the only one with problems Potter?” Draco asked bitterly. He felt Potter tense beside him and thought for a moment he would get back up and walk away. It shattered Draco. As much as he didn’t want Potter to see him like this, he didn’t want him to go away either.

“Nightmare?”

“Memory.” Draco snapped, nearly smelling the whiskey again. He tightened the grip on his hair.

“Want to tell me about it?” Harry asked.

“Fuck no.” Draco couldn’t help the sob that came out. Potter would never understand this feeling. This feeling like Draco was _nothing_. That he shouldn’t be here because he was disgusting. Draco wanted to believe he wasn’t, but he wasn’t there yet. And he couldn’t make himself believe it today if he wanted to.

“Draco.” Potter whispered his name, “I won’t—I won’t judge you.”

“You don’t know that.” Draco told him, shivering as he pushed back into the wall. He wanted to hurt rather than feel this ache.

“I died in the woods.” Potter said.

“W-What?” Draco let go of his hair to look over at Potter. He was sitting in his boxers and a black t-shirt under the stream of water next to Draco.

“I gave myself up to Voldemort and died in the woods.” Potter said evenly, “That’s why I freaked out in Defense. It reminded me when I didn’t fight him. I just closed my eyes and—let him kill me.”

“ _Why_?”

“I was a Horcrux. I didn’t know until that night. But I had a piece of Riddle’s soul in me since the day he tried to kill me the first time. It’s why I felt connected to him my whole life—why I knew what he was up to sometimes.” Potter rubbed his scar then realized he was doing it and abruptly dropped his hand. “I went to this like—dream place? I dunno if it was real. But I saw the Horcrux die and got to decide whether I wanted to come back or not.” Draco stared at Potter, not quite believing it. But Potter’s face was so serious and drawn, that Draco knew that Potter was telling the truth, “I didn’t immediately say yes. I-I-I was just so t-tired.” Potter was shaking again, “Then I c-came back-back here w-where friends d-died and-and I-I-I-I didn’t. And-and I feel-feel–feel aw-aw-awful. I f-f-feel like I’m be-be-being dis-dis-dis-dis-dis-respect-disrespectful of th-their lives. W-why me?” Potter cleared his throat, “I-I d-don’t be-belong h-here.”

Draco offered his hand to Potter who immediately took it, pulling Draco closer to him. His fingers ran along Draco’s Dark Mark like it was nothing, weaving his fingers between Draco’s. It wasn’t the same, but Potter offering his own story made Draco feel like he could say his own.

“Rodolphus raped me.” Draco whispered. It was the first time he had said it since Isaac. He half expected Potter to let go of his hand, but he didn’t. He only squeezed it tighter, “It was last year. I didn’t have my wand.”

Potter tensed, “Be-be-because of me?”

“No.” Draco said strongly, “My father’s wand was broken because of Voldemort. So we had been sharing sometimes, and he had been sharing some with my mother. This time he had my wand and—Rodolphus—I completely froze.” Draco whispered the last part, hoping Potter wouldn’t here.

“Draco.” Potter sounded heart broken, Draco couldn’t remember Potter ever saying his name.

“I-I got hard. Which Isaac says happens scientifically—and so does freezing. Called it rape induced paralysis.” Draco didn’t feel like his body was his anymore. He couldn’t quite find himself, his mouth was moving like he was telling the story about someone else, “I—it, when he told me all that, was the first time I didn’t feel disgusting since it happened.” Draco let out a shaky breath, “Then the next day the Snatchers came with you.”

Potter wrapped Draco’s hand between his own, “I’m so sorry.”

Tears logged in Draco’s throat, “A-and I don’t know if I would have refused to identify you if that hadn’t happened.” The confession came out high pitched and wobbling. Draco hadn’t even admitted that to Isaac. He felt too ashamed to say it out loud, “How fucked up is that? It took _that_ to force me to-to not even play _neutral_ but to fucking be a coward and not give an answer.”

“You have no idea what you would have done if that didn’t happen. You can’t know that.” Harry said fiercely.

“I was so out of it. I felt like all I wanted to do was get out.”

“You saved my life. The reasons don’t matter much to me—and you don’t know anything for sure.”

Draco nodded, just letting the water wash over him. After a moment, he dropped his head onto Potter’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure why Potter didn’t make his skin crawl, but he felt safe.

They stayed there for a long time. Until Draco’s fingers got wrinkly, and then even longer. He knew his pajamas were ruined, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Come on. Let’s have some tea.” Potter whispered. Draco hadn’t realized he was crying until that moment. He wiped his face, standing up with Potter’s help. A drying charm ran over him right before a warming charm—and then one to brush his teeth. Potter had a small grin on his face at Draco’s look, “Couldn’t resist.” He dried himself off, then pulled Draco with him onto the couch. He tucked him tightly into a blanket.

“Winky?”

“Master Harry.” She answered with a yawn.

“Tea please—herbal.”

“Ok.” She still had her eyes closed when she disapperated.

“You can go back to sleep Potter, I’ll be ok.” Draco said, staring at the place where Winky disappeared.

“Here—this helps me sometimes.” Potter seemingly ignored what Draco said. He tugged Draco’s arm a bit, having him lie down. Draco felt awkward as Potter placed Draco’s head on his thigh. Potter moved the blanket a bit so it was still snug around Draco and then started running his fingers through Draco’s hair. Draco was tense at first, not sure how to deal with the situation, “Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no.” Draco said, trying to relax his body. Potter’s fingers were gentle as they rubbed his scalp and then moved through the ends.

“Mione does this for me when I can’t sleep.” Potter explained.

“Hm.” Draco hummed, letting his eyes close. He breathed in deeply, adjusting his arms a bit. He let the steady motion even out his heart rate. Draco didn’t think it would be possible, but he soon fell asleep.

 

Draco slowly blinked, not quite sure where he was. He had fallen asleep on one of the couches next to the fireplace in his room—because of Potter. He looked around, seeing Potter outside the glass on the balcony. The fire pit was roaring and he was hunched over a scroll doing homework, presumably. Draco kept the blanket wrapped around him as he walked outside. Potter had stolen his sweater again.

“Hey.” Draco said, stepping outside.

Potter looked over to him, a smile spread across his face, “Hey.”

“Is that the potions essay?”

“Yes. I’m nearly done.” Potter sounded proud, “How are you?”

“This moment? I’m alright.” Draco answered. He pulled his chair a bit away from the fire pit, “Merlin Potter. I didn’t realize you were trying to burn the place down.”

Potter grinned, “I like a big fire.”

“A bonfire is a more apt description.” Draco plopped down in his chair, “What time is it?”

“Eleven.” Potter answered after glancing at his watch. It was a bit beat up, older. Draco wondered why he chose to wear it. “Want to go down to lunch? Or I guess the Great Hall up from the dungeons.”

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it.” Potter said.

“Hm.” Draco hummed, staring into the fire, “I think it’ll be good, I need the distraction—plus, you can always go without me Potter. I heard you do things by yourself sometimes.” Draco said with a smile, remembering what Potter had said in Hogsmeade.

“I do.” Potter replied, “But I don’t want to leave you alone.” It was honest, straight forward—something Draco wasn’t really used to.

“I—” Draco stopped, unsure of what to say. He just couldn’t help but think of Potter’s savior complex and whether this was genuinely because he cared or because of some sense of duty, “You’re not doing this because you owe me for the other day, is it?”

“No. You help me without strings, I help you without strings. That’s how being friends works.” Potter told him.

“And that’s what we are? Friends?”

“I think so—well getting that way anyway.” Potter answered. His eyes were alarming, but they made Draco feel warm inside. Draco blushed a bit, looking away.

“I’ve never really had friends like that.” Draco confessed, looking into his lap.

“I know, but now’s a good a time as any to start.” Potter responded. His tone was without judgment or reservation, his face open. Draco just smiled.

 

They ate lunch with the Professors and the few students that remained at the castle. Flitwick talked his ear off, but Draco was willing to throw himself into the different ideas. He confessed he had written to his mother about the extra jewels and if he could use them. Draco was a bit embarrassed, but Flitwick responded with fervor.

“Malfoy?” Potter’s voice called him from discussing the different twisting methods they could use with a diamond and metal layered in charms.

“Yeah?” Draco turned. Potter had a smile on his face like he was amused, though Draco wasn’t sure why.

“I’m going for a walk—do you want to come with me?”

“Oh, go!” Flitwick said instantly, “We can talk more once you get the materials.”

“My mother is visiting me tomorrow and bringing me some things.” Draco told him, “So we can start experimenting.”

“This is all very exciting.” Flitwick said with a cheerful laugh.

 

The two walked out onto the Hogwarts grounds and Potter asked him what he was talking about with Flitwick. Draco didn’t think he took a breath the entire time they walked around. Sometimes Potter asked questions to clarify, or to add his own ideas.

“It sounds like something you should sell to people.” Potter said.

“W-what?” Draco asked, coming to a stop.

“You could sell your jewelry to people who wanted protection.” Potter clarified.

“I’m just messing around.”

“Yeah, now—but once you get it to work—

“I can’t fucking talk about that.” Draco snapped. Potter’s face fell. He was too expressive, and Draco knew he had gone too far. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself, “I don’t like talking about the future.”

“Ok.” Potter said, looking brighter but still not happy.

“I have to go into my father’s line of business.” Draco told him coldly, turning back to the lake, “I don’t—” Draco stopped and took a deep breath, “It’s what I have to do.”

“I thought—sometimes I think I have to be an auror b-

“It’s not the same Potter!” Draco growled, he felt like something angry had roared to life inside of him, “You are the Hero of the Wizarding World! No one can say no to you. You can be a lay-a-bout and no one is going to knock on your door and tell you not to do it. We’re not the same at all! I _hurt_ people. I nearly killed _your_ best friend and Katie Bell! I tortured people. I have the fucking _Dark Mark_. I was used like a pawn and then fucked like one. You and me are not the same Potter.”

“Draco—

“Don’t touch me!” Draco practically screamed, stepping away from him. He couldn’t see straight, he felt like his chest was collapsing.

Potter held his hands up, “We’re not the same.” He confirmed slowly and carefully, “But just because we’re not the same doesn’t mean I can’t empathize with you. You don’t know everything that happened to me—” Potter ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes blazing a bit. He watched Draco for a moment, looking like he was about to say something. Draco stared back, waiting for him to explain. It was quiet for a bit too long, then Potter took a breath, “Dumbledore used me as a pawn in his game. I used the imperius curse on a goblin to get into Gringotts. I used crucio more than once, and Voldemort didn’t order me to do it under threats.” Draco flinched, feeling like curling up into himself.

He didn’t want to fight with Potter. He wasn’t sure why he yelled at him in the first place. The anger that had fizzled up quickly was receding just as fast. But—they weren’t the same. No matter how much Potter could pretend otherwise.

“Potter.” He used the most patient tone he was capable of doing, “I appreciate that you’re trying to understand, but my—life is _different_.”

“Of course it is! But that doesn’t mean you’re alone. Isn’t not _considering_ other options what got you into this mess in the first place?” Potter scowled, “You think you’re the only fucking person that has done things they regret? As you told me—you’re not that special. Why is it so difficult for you to think we’re not worlds apart from one another?”

“Because you’re _you_!” Draco sputtered, then frowned, “I’m aware that’s not a great argument.” He wiped away tears, “I don’t want to fight with you Potter.”

“I don’t want to fight with you either.” Potter replied, letting out a tense breath, “Do you talk about your future with anyone?”

“No.” Draco said forcefully, “It—nothing will come out of complaining about it. I don’t want it to have weight.”

“It doesn’t mean the problem isn’t still there.”

“And you’re a shining beacon of conquering your problems?” Draco whirled around to face him, “Why are you here and not with the Weasleys?”

“I’m working on it.” Potter said strongly, looking down at his feet, “I’m not saying I got it figured out.”

“Just throwing stones at me.”

“Helping—trying to anyway. Just because I’m not doing a great job at it doesn’t mean I’m not trying to help.”

“And your friends talk to you like this?” Draco motioned between them.

Potter snorted, “My best friend is Hermione. I mentioned to her that you were going to Isaac—I wasn’t nice about it.” Potter rubbed the back of his neck, “She gave me such a dressing down for being condescending about it while simultaneously pointing out that I never sleep and throw up every day due to panic attacks. She said if I was going to be judgmental of someone getting help than what the fuck did I do all of it for anyway.”

Draco looked out, he had never had a friend be so brutally honest with him. He wasn’t sure if he would have the guts to still call them a friend after, “Merlin.”

“Yeah—she doesn’t sugar coat anything. I don’t think she knows how.” Potter smiled over at Draco, “But she’s my best friend, and I know she did it because she loves me. She didn’t do it in the most _tactful_ way—but she was tired and angry. Tired mostly because I wasn’t letting her get any sleep due to my own insomnia.”

“Why don’t you sleep?” Draco asked before he could help it.

“I told you about the Horcrux.” Draco nodded and Potter frowned, “Since I was tied to Voldemort with the Horcrux, he sent me visions. Some on purpose, some on accident. I _know_ the connection is gone, but sometimes the dreams—feel too real. And when I wake up from them in the middle of the night—it’s hard to convince myself it isn’t something new, that he isn’t still inside me.”

Draco bit his lip, trying not to cry. His head hurt from holding back emotion, his throat burned. Draco knew the nightmares that were so terrifying only because they were a memory. There _were_ more similarities than Draco gave him credit for, and that wasn’t fair. He realized he had put Potter up on a pedestal without really wanting to.

“Draco?” Potter said his name again. He had been doing that all day. _Draco_. It sounded odd coming off his lips. He didn’t really think about it, he just reached out his hand. Potter weaved his fingers between his and held on.

“Do you mind if I draw on my arms for a bit?” Draco asked, staring at the lake and not looking at Potter.

“No, you want me to go away?”

“No.” Draco scowled.

“Ok.” Potter squeezed his hand for a moment, “Can I draw too?”

“Sure.” Draco pulled the pens out of his robe pocket, sitting down on the ground.

They didn’t come back inside until dinner, and by then Draco’s arms were covered in drawings. There were beautiful flowers, vines that twisted on top of each other. Potter wasn’t half bad at drawing. He wasn’t a Luna Lovegood, but he was certainly better than Draco was at drawing.

“Have you ever thought about tattoos?” Potter asked.

“No.” Draco said.

“They’d look good.” Potter said, then blushed, “I mean—I just meant the drawings on your arm look nice.”

“I do look good with drawings.” Draco said with a laugh, moving to roll the sleeves back down.

“Leave them, I don’t think anyone is going to say anything here.” Potter told him.

Draco looked at him, “Any other milestones you want me to conquer today? Why don’t you take one on?”

“I lied to you the other day.”

“You lied to me once? Is this an accomplishment?” Draco asked, bewildered.

“When I said the first night of break that I didn’t want to walk all the way back to Gryffindor tower, I asked if I could sleep in your room. I asked because I was afraid to go to sleep by myself.”

Draco grinned, “Harry Potter using me for his own gain.”

Potter smiled back, “Still think I have a hero complex?”

Draco couldn’t help his snort, “Yes. Now let’s go eat dinner—I’m very proud of you for using me for your own benefit.” Potter laughed as he followed him into the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on tumblr! Caedes12. I'll definitely post some behind the scenes thoughts on this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with Mum and a first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some warnings: Panic attacks, brief flashback of sexual assault (not too descriptive),

A nudge woke Draco up. He took in a sharp breath, looking around and blinking. He wasn’t sure what woke him.

“Draco?” Potter’s voice sounded terrified, “C-C-Can I?”

“Yeah.” Draco pat the empty side of his bed, adjusting the blankets as he rolled over.

“Thank you.” He almost sounded like he had been crying, his voice was shaking more than usual. Draco felt the bed dip as Potter climbed into bed. He listened for a moment, hearing Potter’s shaky breathing. Draco reached out with his hand.

“What?” Potter asked.

“Hold it.” Draco demanded into the pillow.

“I-I’m sor-sorry.” Potter stuttered, gripping his hand tightly.

“Do you have a nose?”

“W-What?”

“Do you have a nose?” Draco asked again, his voice thick with sleep.

“Y-yes?” Potter made it sound like a question.

“Check.” Draco demanded. He watched out of half-closed eyes as Potter felt his nose.

“Wh-why am-am- why am I do-doing this?”

“Is your nose there?”

“Yes.” Potter answered again.

“Then you’re no Dark Lord.” Draco informed him, squeezing his hand, “Get some sleep.”

Draco could just make out a small smile on Potter’s face in the darkness, “Goodnight Draco.”

 

“You going to be here when I get back?” Draco asked, buttoning up his cloak. Potter was sitting out on the back balcony, a cup of tea in his hands. It was extremely chilly, but the warming charms and fire were keeping him warm.

“Yeah.” Potter nodded.

“Want to tell me why you know where Slytherin common room is when I get back?”

Potter laughed, “Yes.”

“Bye Potter!”

“Say hello to your Mum for me.” Potter replied.

Draco shook his head, walking out of the Slytherin common room and down the steps. It was a chilly walk over to Hogsmeade, as it was March. He pulled his scarf tighter as he pushed into the Three Broomsticks. Rosmerta gave him a nod, so he nodded in reply.

His mother looked beautiful. She was sitting with a cup of tea, wearing a purple cloak. She was sitting in a corner booth, private and away from everyone else. He noticed the slight shimmer of charms around her, probably protecting her from stray hexes just like he uses in the library. Probably a silencing charm too, if he could tell the shimmer correctly.

“Mum.” Draco let out a breath. She wouldn’t hug him, she wasn’t a big touch person.

“Draco.” Her face lit up as she saw him, and Draco was taken quite by surprise when she hugged him tightly. Draco quenched the desire to panic as best as he could, until he gently pushed away.

“It is so good to see you Mum.” Draco whispered.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“You can hug me like that again—just, give me a warning.” Draco said with a smile.

“You look—so much better.” She kissed his head, then motioned for him to sit.

“I’ve been seeing a therapist.”

“That wasn’t in your letters.”

“I didn’t want to tell you, you didn’t seem supportive of it before.” Draco admitted, taking the second cup of tea. They had clearly been transfigured to be a bit more fancy because they weren’t the usual cups from the bar.

“I was wrong.” His mother said plainly, which Draco didn’t think he had ever heard before, “I have been seeing a therapist as well.” She grinned into her cup a bit mischievously.

“You didn’t mention it in your letters.” Draco accused.

“I guess we both live to surprise each other.” She put down her cup, “How are your classes? I brought the jewels you asked for.” She handed over a small moleskin pouch.

“I’m doing well in all my classes, with the exception of Defense. But I believe that is the professor being bias.” Draco said, gratefully took the moleskin pouch and opened it. There were dozens of emeralds, diamonds and rubies inside, “Mum! This is too much!”

“I don’t wear any of it—I’ve never worn any of the pieces I gave you. I still have plenty.” She said with a wave of her hand.

“How—how is business?”

“Very well. I told you honey, I’m just as good at investing as your father. All he did was sign his name.” She chuckled a bit.

“Have you heard from him?”

“We write weekly.” She answered, her voice stiff, “He says you haven’t written.”

“I wouldn’t know what to say.” Draco answered immediately. It was something Isaac and Draco had talked about. He was more comfortable telling Isaac that he felt like if he started talking to his father, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He had too many questions and too many rants. The anger would bloom in his chest and he feared it would explode if he ever started.

“Tell him about your classes, your friends.” She suggested.

The anger ignited in him quickly, “Sure. I’ll tell him about my classes that I’m excelling in won’t matter because I have to run the family business anyway. Doesn’t matter that I spent hours with Flitwick talking about protective charms and jewelry because when I graduate it will be nothing but an acentric hobby.” Draco rubbed along the edge of his cup with his thumb, pushing into the china as hard as he could. His knuckles were white and he grit his teeth, “Or should I tell him that my best friends are Luna Lovegood, who gave me a charm when she accidentally told McGonagall I’m gay _or_ that my _other_ best friend is Harry Potter?”

“Draco, you do not have to do anything you don’t want to.” His mother said softly, looking a little stunned, “And I take it I shouldn’t have a party to see if you want to court any young ladies.”

Draco’s stomach dropped, “Oh shit.” This is what he got from talking to Isaac all the time and not having to temper his emotions. He just shouted out all his feelings like the Gryffindor he was spending all his time with. This was definitely Potter’s fault.

“Draco, language.” His mother chastised.

“I-I didn’t mean to tell you that.”

“I think this family could use a good deal more of honest—accidental or not.” She moved her cup slightly, rubbing along the edge of the saucer with her thumb, “Draco, you do not have to take over the family business if you do not wish. The board is running investments well and I am overseeing them. I _enjoy_ it. It gives me something to do—your father liked the image of me, being less involved.” She said each word slowly and carefully. It was honest, but it was trying to be tactful, “I learned financials on my father’s knee, so I will figure this out. And I also know a worthy investment when I see one.” She smiled softly.

“I haven’t even shown you a prototype yet.” Draco told her.

“You have my every confidence.” She sipped on her tea, “Now, I do believe you should tell me more about your relationship with Mr. Potter.”

Draco wasn’t quite sure where to start, “He and I started talking—we spent a day together showing Lindsey—that’s my therapist’s sister—around Hogsmeade. He had been—cordial—before that.” Draco shrugged, “Then we both stayed here for spring break. There’s no one else here our year—and—” Draco took a breath, “I dunno. He’s trying to convince me we’re more alike than not.”

“ _Don’t_ _know_ Draco. Enunciate.” His mother said kindly, sipping from her cup, “It is a very nice connection to have.”

“That’s not why I’m being friends with him. He helps me and I help him—but we don’t keep score.” Draco explained, “I like talking to someone who understands panic attacks.”

“He should focus on how many lives he saved, not the lives lost.” Her answer was evidence enough to Harry’s point. This is why Potter struggled to open up, everyone thought it was so easy to focus on the good instead of the bad, “I still wonder how he managed to stave off the killing curse.”

“You were there?”

“Yes, I forget you weren’t at my trial when he spoke for me.” His mother took a sip of her tea, “The Dark Lord shot the killing curse at him. He just stood there.” She took a small breath, “I walked over to him, to see if he was dead. I felt his pulse and asked if you were still alive in the castle—he nodded. The Dark Lord asked if Potter was dead, and I said yes.”

It felt like the whole world had come to a stop. Potter had _never_ mentioned his mother being involved, “Merlin’s beard—he didn’t tell me any of this.”

“Perhaps he thought I had already told you. The courtroom had anti-press wards, so it never made the paper.” She put down her cup, “You sound very close to him.”

Draco nodded, “It is truly shocking—we fought yesterday, but I think we understood each other better at the end. I still don’t think he’s completely right, but he isn’t wrong.” He nudged the moleskin purse, “He also wants me to make a future out of this. It’s why I yelled at him—Father won’t be pleased.”

“Your father is in Azkaban for the next ten years. He can yell at you when he gets out.” His mother told him. Draco nearly had to pick his jaw up off the floor, he couldn’t quite believe his mother had spoken ill of his father twice in a conversation, “I’ve been working with my therapist on speaking what I think, and how sometimes people in the room might be waiting for someone else to have the courage to speak up—so it might as well be me.” His mother squeezed his hand, “Now I also believe there is something you aren’t telling me.”

Draco wasn’t quite prepared for the emotion that overcame him. He blinked his eyes quickly, turning to the window. The dread of walking around the Manor and thinking everyone _knew_. That everyone could just see it written across his forehead what had happened. The even worse feeling that sank in when he realized _no one noticed_. He couldn’t tell his mother he was raped. Not yet.

“I’m—I can’t tell you.” Draco felt his heart burn and he curled his fingers tightly, “I’m just not ready.” How could he even begin to tell her what happened?

“I’ll be here when you are.” She touched his hand, which made him flinch only slightly, “Have you talked to your therapist about it?”

“At length.” Draco confirmed, “And Harry.”

“I am glad you have people to confide in, even if it isn’t me.” She looked at him wistfully, “I do love you, my son.”

“I love you too Mum.” Draco grinned at her, happy to know she wasn’t hurt but his inability to talk to her.

As he continued to talk to his Mum about school, and being friends with Potter, he began to realize that he wasn’t being honest with himself on how he felt about the Golden Boy. As he walked back from Hogsmeade to the castle, he thought back to how many times he got a fluttery feeling in his stomach and thought he was excited to find a new friend. Those sparks were more than friendship. Draco hadn’t had a crush on a boy since Blaise, so he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.

As he walked in through the castle gates, he saw someone feeding the thestrals by the forest. Draco knew it was Potter even from far away. It was how he held himself, and his stupid hair. Then he waved like an idiot at Draco, which made Draco roll his eyes and head over to the Forbidden Forest.

“Thought you were going to wait for me in Slytherin.”

Potter grinned, “I got bored.” He handed the thestral a piece of meat, “How’s your Mum?”  

“Good—she gave me these.” He held up the pouch, “It’s jewelry for my charms project—she also said that I didn’t have to run the family business if I didn’t want to and she’d give me money to start doing this.”

Potter turned to him slowly, “Well, I’d say that was a _very_ nice lunch.”

Draco snorted, “I also told her I was gay and you were one of my friends.”

“Very productive lunch.” Potter stared at him, “You ok?”

“Yeah. She was very supportive—why didn’t you tell me she was there in the forest? When you died?”

“I thought it would best come from her.” Potter pet the thestral in long strokes.

“Anything else you’re hiding from me.”

Potter grinned at him, looking a bit flirtatious, “Plenty.” He pulled a wadded up piece of parchment. It looked like it had been folded over and over again in the same way.

“Potter? Why are you handing me a piece of parchment?”

“Take out your wand and say I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” Draco eyed him, but did as he was asked.

“Is-is this Hogwarts?”

“Yeah, it’s how I knew you were headed back to the castle.” Draco looked to the edge of the forest where two sets of feet each labeled with their own name stood.

“How long have you had this?”

“Third year.”

“Salazar’s _knob_.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” Potter asked with a laugh.

“This is incredible.” Draco whispered.

“I got it from the twins, but it was made by my dad and his friends.”

“Incredible.” Draco said again, “This is how you watched me sixth year?”

“Yes, and I figured out that the Room of Requirement isn’t on there. I can’t figure out though if it’s because my dad didn’t know about it, or it’s unplottable.”

“Probably the latter—but your father might not have known about it either.”

“Did you talk to your Mum about anything else?” Potter asked.

“No—she asked me about—I think she knows something else bad happened to me. She asked about it, but I’m not ready to tell her.” Draco ran his fingers through his hair, “But telling her I’m gay and don’t want to run father’s investments is enough for one day—you conquer any milestones today?” He asked teasingly.

“I put in my application to be a curse breaker.” Potter said.

“And here I thought you not wanting to be an auror meant you wanted a safe career.” Draco smiled at him, and Potter laughed. Draco handed him back his parchment. Potter’s fingers a little too long against his as he took it back. But maybe Draco was reading too far into it given his new revelation. Draco looked at Potter, when did he step so close to him?

“Harry? Tha’ you?” Hagrid called. Draco jumped, taking a step back.

“Hey Hagrid!” Potter waved, but looked a bit disappointed before he covered it in a grin.

“The thestrals could use some attention.” Hagrid grinned, though he looked a bit warily at Draco.

“Evening Hagrid.” Draco said.

“Good evenin’” He answered, rolling on his toes a bit, “He’s about ter go for a long journey. Slughorn is takin’ ‘em to a potions meeting er summat.” Draco nodded, not sure what else to say. “Yer doin’ alright Harry?” Hagrid asked.

“Yeah—turned in my application to be a cursebreaker today.” Potter was trying to sound casual.

“Ah, I suppose they’re tickled to have _Harry Potter_ apply.” Hagrid’s eyes were twinkling and he looked _ridiculously_ proud.

“I hope they don’t accept me for that reason.” Potter frowned.

“They might, but it isn’t like you’re not qualified.” Draco said and Potter blushed.

“Ya tell the Weasley’s?” Hagrid asked.

“No.” Potter muttered.

“Yer might want to tell Bill, since tha’s his job.” Hagrid told Harry. Bill. That’s the one Draco was responsible for marring his face. Draco swallowed, looking to his own thestral. He didn’t know why he thought he could have feelings for Harry. This was never going to work. There was too much between them.  

“Oh yeah—I forgot.” Potter rubbed down the thestral a bit more.

“I’m going up to the castle.” Draco managed to say, his throat caught a bit.

“You alright?” Potter stared at him.

“Yeah, just a bit cold.” Draco started walking away. He was shaking a bit as he walked into the castle. He didn’t really think he should be alone, but he wasn’t sure what to do.

Draco walked past his bed. As much as he wanted to curl up into it and forget the world, he knew he probably shouldn’t. He walked outside and transfigured a chair into a massive couch. Draco stoked the embers of the morning’s fire and added a few more logs. He ended up pulling his pens out, starting to draw a massive tree over top of the Dark Mark. The tree had pink flowers all over it, just because it could. He put in pain staking detail, trying to make each petal look perfect. If there was one thing the pens were helping, it was definitely his drawing ability.

Draco wondered if he would ever get tattoos. It would be ok for him to get tattoos now. He didn’t have to be in the Wizengamot. He had something he could create—jewelry that would protect people. Artists had tattoos, it was part of the look. But who would buy from him? A former Death Eater selling jewelry didn’t bode well. Draco sighed. He wished he could just start over. Like when he wrote a shitty essay and would just burn it up and start over again.

“Hey.” Potter’s voice was warm, “You ok? You weren’t at dinner.”

“I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” Potter looked to the drawings on his arms and his brow scrunched.

“What’s wrong?” Potter asked. Draco wanted to ignore that his heart melted a bit at Potter’s tone, and how much he wanted to open up. The itchy feeling came back like it never left and he wanted to pull the blanket over his head and hide, “Draco?” Potter walked over and sat by his feet. Draco curled them up to his chest, trying to turn away from Potter.

“Do you think anyone will buy jewelry from a Death Eater?” Draco whispered.

“I think people will buy it when they see it works.” It was an honest answer, and one that didn’t sugar coat his past. Draco admired the answer, if Potter said something ridiculously naïve he would have laughed in his face.

“I haven’t gotten it to work yet.” He looked down at his fingers, still avoiding Potter’s gaze.

“You will.” Potter said with confidence, “You’re ridiculously stubborn. If there’s one thing I would bet on, it’s you not giving up.”

Draco grimaced, “In the past I didn’t give up for horrible reasons.”

“I know. But this time it’s different.” Potter told him, tracing one of the designs on his arm, “Start off small—like Fred and George. They did owl order for a while and got a base, and then they opened their store. And if you fail, you know you have something to fall back on. But you can do this.”

Draco’s mind started whirring. He frowned, “Can you set up a meeting with George?” Draco asked before he could think better of it, “I know he has a business that helps protect people, it started when the Dark Lord came to power. I think it might be best to sell my product through his store—then it’s not my name associated with it.” Potter was quiet and Draco looked up at him, “Sorry—I shouldn’t have asked—

“No.” Potter squeezed his hand, “No it’s a good idea. I think you have a lot to offer George. I think he could use your creative ideas. Ron’s been helping him out on the business side—and he’s really good with the strategy of running a business—but George needs inspiration. I think it’ll be brilliant if you can all get along.” Potter looked a bit sheepish at the end.

Draco nodded, “I can figure it out. I want to work with George and—and Ron.”

“How much did that hurt to say?” Potter had a small smile on his lips.

“Came out tasting like tar.” Draco said honestly, and Potter laughed. His laugh made the tense mood dissipate. His head was tossed back and Draco’s stomach fluttered, “You really think you can get him to sit down with me?”

“Yes. I was his first investor, so I can make sure he sits down with you.” Potter said.

“I don’t want to be a favor.” Draco said with a scowl.

Potter smiled, “I usually go with my gut. I think you’ll help him as much as he will help you.” Draco nodded, looking back down at his arms.

“Thank you Harry.” Draco whispered.

“You’re welcome.” Potter hopped up, “Let’s go to the kitchens to get you some food.”

“I—yeah ok.” Draco stood up, his feet aching a bit as he stood. He grabbed the blanket he was using to take back inside and transfigured the couch back to a chair.

Draco kept thinking through dinner about different ideas for his jewelry. He talked to Harry about ideas. He accidentally brought up similar ideas that he did before but Harry listened like it was the first time. Adding different ideas, or expanding on ones they had already talked. Draco was _sure_ Harry was sitting too close to him than what was socially acceptable, but he also didn’t want to read into anything. His chest was tight as he talked, trying not to focus on how Harry’s body heat radiated off of him. He couldn’t help but hope he wasn’t reading into it, but at the same time he desperately tried to quash those feelings. Potter would never look at him like that. He was a Death Eater and had nearly murdered several of his friends. Draco was just imagining all of it. He trudged up to bed that night a bit defeated.

Potter crawled into bed with Draco that night after asking rather shyly. Did he really expect him to say no? Draco fell asleep turned away from Potter with his heart thundering in his chest and a conscious effort to force himself to fall asleep. He didn’t want to read too far into it, but was there any other way?

 

_He could smell the whiskey. His body felt like it was under a spell. He couldn’t move it. He couldn’t breathe in. Why couldn’t he move? The pain was unbearable. Why couldn’t he move?_

Draco awoke with a start. He shot up straight in bed, hand pressed against his heart.

“Draco?” Potter sounded groggy.

“I’m ok.” Draco told Harry, wanting to pull himself out of bed and go take a shower. He would wait until Harry fell back asleep so he wouldn’t know. A light touch on his arm made him flinch.

“Shit.” Potter flicked his wrist and there was a small glow from his wand, “Draco?”

“Yeah.” Draco stared at the open room, making sure no one was there. He had his arms wrapped tightly around his legs and he pushed his back up against the headboard.

“Can I hug you?” Potter asked.

“Yeah.” Draco nodded. Potter moved slowly, wrapping one arm around his shoulder. Draco tensed as Potter laid his arm down. Potter stopped, waited a moment, and then continued. Draco took a deep breath, trying to center himself. He let the fear pulse through him, but it eventually started to lessen. He took another deep breath and rest his head on Potter’s shoulder. Potter didn’t shove him off, so he assumed it was all right. Draco just focused on his breathing, trying to even it out.

His eyelids got heavy. He felt warm. Safe. He was pretty sure everyone should feel this safe in Potter’s arm.

Far away from his past.

He fell asleep.

 

Draco felt protected, like he was in a cocoon. He burrowed closer into the warmth, moving his hands so he wasn’t lying on top of them as much. He was hugged tighter and instead of feeling constricted, he felt free.

“Draco?” A groggy voice roused him more. It sounded hoarse and sexy. Draco took a short breath, suddenly realizing what was happening.

“Shit.” Draco pulled away quickly. He had been cuddling _Harry Potter_. He moved as far back on the bed as he could, trying to put distance between them to undo the damage. There was no way Potter would forgive him for this, “I’m sorry. _Fuck_.” Draco tried to move further back but misjudged how much space he had. He fell to the ground, wincing as he landed on his elbow and tailbone. Part of him wanted to crawl under bed and never come out ever again.

“Are you alright?” Potter sounded concerned, which only made his embarrassment worse.

“I’m _sorry_.” Draco whispered into his knees, his hands over his head. He was so _stupid_. Why couldn’t he just keep his feelings under wraps? He didn’t _deserve_ Potter. Tears came to his eyes and he was glad Potter couldn’t see them.

“It’s my fault. When you were resting on my shoulder last night, I got tired. I kept my arm around you when I lied down; I thought it would be helpful. I didn’t think about you waking up and panicking.”

Draco frowned, “I told you Potter, I don’t mind when you—” Draco bit off his own words, looking up at Potter who had crawled down onto the floor to sit across from him. He was wearing pajama bottoms that were somehow too short and too wide for him and a Gryffindor t-shirt that had at least three holes Draco could see, “You make me feel safe.” Draco answered honestly.

It was quiet for a moment, “Can I kiss you?” Harry asked.

“Why?” Draco asked, his heart racing.

“You make me feel safe too.” Harry answered.

Draco couldn’t speak, so he nodded. Potter leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. It made sparks go down Draco’s spine, but it was over much too quickly.

“You can try again.” Draco told him, then turned vibrantly red.

Potter laughed, leaning in and kissing him with more fervor. Then his tongue slipped into Draco’s mouth and he forgot how to think. He forgot he wasn’t supposed to like touch as he pressed closer to Harry.

Harry’s grin when they separated was infectious. Draco couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“I wanted to do that all day yesterday but I wasn’t sure you’d let me.” Potter admitted.

“I spent all day yesterday trying to convince myself you didn’t like me like that.”

“I do like you.” Potter nudged him with his knee, “I’d like to take you on a date tonight.”

Draco couldn’t quite believe it was real, “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“And maybe hang out most of the day.”

Draco laughed, “That would be nice too.”

“I told Hagrid about you.”

“I’m pretty sure Hagrid knows who I am.”

“No—I mean that he knows I like you.”

Draco frowned, “I’m sure he told you to run away.”

“No. He said he was surprised when Flitwick spoke so positively of you all year, but then he noticed how quiet you were and didn’t know if it was because you were trying to keep your head down or if it was a real change.” Potter nudged him again, “He reckons if I say something positive, then you’re not like what you were.”

“Because you’re the _Golden Boy_?” Draco asked cruelly.

“No.” Potter shook his head, “Because I have more reason not to believe it—or not to _want_ to anyway.” Draco was quiet but he reached out with his hand to tangle his fingers between Harry’s.

“Can we work on my jewelry today?”

“That sounds perfect.” Potter answered. Warmth spread through Draco, enough where even his toes felt warm against the floor. The way Potter was looking at him, he never wanted to forget this feeling.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Necessary conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you for all the love I've gotten on this story. I wanted to write a story about sexual assault that was real to me. It's been as difficult for me to write as it has been cathartic. Dealing with one year mark, dealing with telling family, is all very real to me. And I do appreciate people taking the time to comment and saying it's real for them too. It sounds a bit weird to thank people for sharing that, but since this story has aspects very much a part of my life, it means so much more to have someone say that they appreciate my take. 
> 
> So THANK YOU for reading. And thanks for the love.
> 
> WARNINGS ON THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> There is sexual stuff in this chapter. Also dealing with past sexual assault.

Harry and Draco together made a significant amount of progress on a few bracelets and only managed to blow themselves up twice. Potter had excellent ideas about the different charms, trying to weave in different ones. They ended up making a list of all the charms they could think of that would help protect someone, of course one that could be added to once they did a bit more research.

Potter also had a bunch of ideas for different price bands. Not everyone could afford diamonds, or rubies. But they still wanted to inspire people to buy up. Draco was impressed by Potter’s business mind, and he confessed to helping out George a bit over the summer before coming back to Hogwarts. Potter also wrote George a letter, explaining everything and asking for a meeting. Harry wouldn’t let Draco read it before sending it, but he did kiss Draco after the owl flew off. He held Draco’s cheek lightly, and made Draco want to melt into the stool he was sitting on. Harry was standing between Draco’s legs, his body heat radiating into Draco like he’d never be cold again. Draco had forgotten what this felt like, to feel the spark of arousal. It tingled through him and made Draco a bit nervous, but it was manageable.

Potter pulled away with a smile on his face, placing a final chaste kiss on Draco’s lips. Draco blushed as Potter scrutinized his face.

“Hello?” Flitwick called into the classroom.

“Hello Professor.” Draco turned toward the door, expecting Harry to jump back immediately.

“You two working?” Flitwick looked excitedly at the contents all over the table.

“Yes.” Potter said, moving away enough to be more appropriate but still too close to be merely friendly, “Trying to figure out how to imbed a heightened awareness charm into this.” Potter showed him the silver bracelet. They had pulled it apart from its original, adding more twists and bends in the metal and adding a jewel with a shield charm. Leather could hold a charm, but they found silver with a jewel made the shield charm that much stronger—and longer lasting. It could survive a few different hexes too, instead of one or two before wearing out.

If Flitwick noticed how close they were, he didn’t say anything as he pulled up his own stool to help. All three of them together started bouncing off ideas, and soon Draco had ink all over his fingers as he furiously wrote down things to try. Trying different things was a tedious process, especially since it took precise detail.

“Try coiling it.” Potter murmured, the three of them hovered over the silver bracelet. Draco frowned.

“I need to see closer.”

“Hm.” Potter took off his glasses and cast _gemino_ to have a second pair, cleared the prescription then zoomed in the lenses like magnified glasses before handing them to Draco. Draco scrunched his nose, changing the style a bit and placed them on his nose.

“Holy shit.” Draco said, “Much better.” He coiled the band once, and placed the charm. It shook for a moment and Draco barely had time to cover his face with his left arm before it exploded. It wasn’t too large of an explosion, but it sent all three of them a meter back.

“How’s everyone’s eyebrows?” Potter asked, a scorch mark on his cheek but otherwise fine.

Flitwick laughed, “I think only partially singed.” Sure enough, part of his right eyebrow had burnt off and he had scorch marks on his nose and cheeks.

“I think a bit of the bracelet is in my arm.” Draco said, turning over his left elbow. Through the holes in his shirt, he could see there were tiny bits of silver embedded in his left elbow and he was bleeding. The crisp white shirt was turning red.

“You should go to see Poppy.” Flitwick looked at his arm, “You alright?”

“Yeah. Maybe I should coil it twice before trying the charm?”

“A coat of a stabilizing agent on the silver might help too—that’s what cursed jewelry use. Most of the times the coat is poisonous as well, but we can try something else.” Flitwick stated.

“That’s a good idea—I think there is a type of paste we can soak it in. It might help the longevity of the charms as well.” Draco’s brain started whirring.

“Draco we should go to the infirmary.” Potter looked concerned, touching his elbow cautiously, making sure to show Draco his hands before doing so.

“Yeah, I think so too.” Draco agreed.

“I’ll clean things up and send everything to your room.” Flitwick said, picking up the bracelet that looked remarkably intact for the amount of silver in Draco’s arm.

“Thank you Professor.” Draco said.

“We’re making progress! Don’t let this set you back.” Flitwick told him.

“Never.” Draco said with a grin, Flitwick smiled back, sparing a glance at Harry as he touched Draco’s shoulder.

“Come on Draco.” Potter eased him gently out the door.

“I think Flitwick knows about us.” Draco said in the hallway.

“I don’t mind, unless you do.” Harry said.

“I don’t mind—but people aren’t going to like this Potter.”

“Harry.” He corrected him with a brilliant grin that made Draco forget all about the pain in his elbow.

“Harry.” Draco whispered his name, and he leaned in for a warm kiss. They made it to the infirmary with only a few more stops for a kiss.

“Madam Pumfrey?” Harry called into the infirmary. There was a record playing but no one in the room, “Madam Pumfrey?” He called louder.

She came out around the corner in normal robes instead of her healer robes, “Goodness gracious. Can a healer get a break?”

Draco tensed, “I’m sorry Madam, if it’s inconvenient—

“Nonsense, let’s see what we got.” She pointed for Draco to sit on the exam table. He hopped up onto it, Potter stood to the side. Draco offered up the inside left elbow, “You boys weren’t fighting again, were you?”

“No Ma’am. Experimenting with Charms—Professor Flitwick was there. He can verify.” Draco answered. He had to be careful around Madam Pumfrey. She always knew his reputation as being a whiny kid, as he tended to belabor his injuries when he was young. Then sixth year, he was staying in the hospital wing when he snuck out to let Death Eaters into the castle. The first time he was injured, he thought she was going to refuse to treat him for a moment. But she did. Draco knew not to push his luck.

“I’m going to have to cut off this shirt.” She told him.

“Ok.” He nodded, a bit nervous now to look at the damage. He didn’t need more scars—especially on his arms. Madam Pumfrey cut off the shirt carefully up to his shoulder. She took a sponge and gently disinfected the area, cleaning off the blood.

“Shit Draco.” Potter said, standing on his toes to see his arm.

“I’m going to have to pull each piece out.” Madam Pumfrey said with a frown. There were at least a hundred small bits of silver in his arm from his forearm to his bicep.

“Ok.” Draco’s voice wobbled, “Will it scar?”

“I’ll give you paste to keep it from scarring.” She said, waving her wand for a stool and a few supplies. There was a small bin and tweezers, “Most of it won’t, but I can’t promise anything.” She said sternly. Draco nodded, blinking back tears. His arm was already hideous, might as well add a few more scars to the mix. A warm hand drew him from his thoughts. Harry had covered his right hand with his own, pulling up a chair to sit next to him. Pumfrey definitely stared at their hands for a bit too long, and then tried to pull it off, “This will take awhile.”

“By dinner you think?” Potter asked.

“Perhaps.”

“He has a date tonight.” Harry told her.

“Potter.” Draco chastised, flushing bright red just as Madam Pumfrey began to pluck silver bits out of his arm. He winced a bit, but then tried to relax.

“Well, we wouldn’t want you missing that.” Pumfrey said with a smile, looking more at Harry than Draco but that was all right.

Harry chattered along as Pumfrey pulled out the silver bits as carefully as possible. Draco couldn’t help but wince a few times, but Harry always rubbed his thumb along Draco’s hand after it happened.

“Sit right there, let me go get rid of this and get some paste.” It had taken almost two hours, but Draco’s arm was finally free of silver.

“It looks hideous.” Draco whispered.

“It will heal.” Potter told him.

“But—I’ll have more scars.”

“You might.” Potter agreed, “Scars aren’t a bad thing Draco.”

“I’m marred.”

“Well, I’m marred too. I got plenty of ugly scars I can show you all over.” Harry flushed, “That came out wrong.” Draco snorted, “I just meant—not that I would mind the other stuff either, but that’s not what I was talking about—I just have a lot of scars and—” Draco pressed a kiss on his lips, thinking Harry would have kept going.

“You can show me your scars later.” Draco said with a smile.

“Oh—I can?” Draco nodded to the question and Potter kissed Draco again.

“And I’ve been injured, so I need a reward.” Draco told him and Harry laughed, kissing him a bit more. A light cough broke them up. Potter blushed a bit, leaning back.

Pumfrey handed Potter the paste, “Why don’t you put this on, if you want to be more hands on.” Draco went scarlet and Harry made a startled laugh noise. But he accepted the jar and took up Pumfrey’s stool. He took the gross cream and started putting it on the small wounds. He worked slowly and carefully, with Pumfrey watching him from behind.

“This needs to stay on for about an hour.” Pumfrey said.

“Well—I guess no Hogsmeade then.” Draco told Potter, “I’m not subjugating anyone to this smell.”   

“We’ll think of something.” Harry said, his green eyes sparkling up at Draco. Those eyes made him forget everything. He wasn’t sure how Harry managed to light up like that—to make rooms seem that much more alive.

Draco smirked, “I think I have an idea.”

“Well, you can be off since you are done with me. Reapply this in the morning though, Mr. Malfoy, to help with scars.” She handed him the paste.

“Thank you Madam Pumfrey.” Draco took the paste as he hopped off the stretcher. Potter weaved his fingers between his and Draco’s heart pattered in his chest like it might flutter away. It made his knees feel weak. They walked out of the hospital wing.

“Where to?” Harry asked.

“Follow me.” Draco tugged his hand.

“But where are we going?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Draco asked, looking at Potter.

“Yes.” Harry answered simply, like it wasn’t a big question to ask.

“Then follow me.” Draco led him down the hallway, but he was pretty sure Harry would figure out where they were going before too long. He tingled with anticipation as they walked up steps, Harry chattering on about Quidditch as they walked.

“I think you’re right that the Harpies will beat the Cannons, but let’s not jump too far yet Potter.” Draco said with a smile, “They have a lot of promising rookie players—but they’re young. The Falcons have a lot of experience—

“Yeah, yeah. And an arse of a seeker.”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t amazing.” Draco said lightly.

“Just how can you _root_ for them? Hubburd is an absolute _dick_. Have you read his interviews?”

“He’s easily the most attractive seeker in the league.”

Potter scoffed, “Absolutely not.”

“Oh? And who do you think has him beat?” Draco looked at him and Potter turned bright red.

“I dunno—he’s just not my type.”

“Potter, you don’t turn that color because of that answer.” Draco backed him up into a wall quite easily since Potter didn’t seem to want to make eye contact with him, “Krum?”

Potter snorted, “No, though he is definitely handsome—bit of a beater’s build though.”

“So, who is it?” Draco asked again. Potter was standing on his tip toes as if he were trying to climb up the wall to get away from him. Draco grabbed Harry’s belt loop and pulled it a bit toward him.

“ _JamesWarner_.” Potter said quickly, like he couldn’t get it out fast enough.

“James Warner from the Caerphilly Catapults?” Draco had to think, as Potter relaxed a bit but was still bright red, “Oh—oh! Blonde isn’t he? And definitely a _seeker’s_ build. And has a bit of a mouth on him too—and you have something against Hubbard? Not like Warner hasn’t been known to mouth off to the press too.”

“I dunno, it’s different.”

“You have a _type_ Potter. Though I would think snarky, lithe, a seeker and head strong are probably your type if you want to include Ginerva on that list.” Draco smirked and pressed a kiss to his lips. Maybe it was because of the conversation, but it heat up quickly. Draco’s tongue was in Potter’s mouth as he ran his fingers through Potter’s hair. Getting a bit of courage, he pushed Harry into the wall, pressing his entire body against Harry’s. Harry moaned, Draco’s entire body surged with arousal. His hands were everywhere and Draco wanted them in even more places. Draco curled his hand down Harry’s thigh, it was tense under his touch but powerful. Draco pulled him closer, trying to get as tightly pressed to him as possible. Potter moaned into his lips. Draco tugged on his leg again and Harry seemed to get the message. He broke the kiss for a moment to hop up, wrapping his legs around Draco’s waist.

It felt _delicious_. The contact added friction in all the right places.

“Mr. Malfoy!” A scandalized voice made him jump back, “A-and- Mr. Potter!” McGonagall sounded horrified.

“Sorry Professor—didn’t think anyone would be walking through here on break.” Harry said, thinking quickly Draco thought and a reminder that they weren’t in school so Draco couldn’t get in trouble.

“Yes, well, it should be noted that this behavior will not be tolerated once class begins again.” Draco wanted a hole to open in the ground and swallow him up, “You two should be setting an example for the younger ones.”

“We will.” Potter held up their joint hands, “Interhouse unity and all that.”

“Potter.” Draco hissed, turning even _more_ red even though he didn’t think that would be possible.

“Well then, have a good evening gentlemen. I’ll see you in class on Monday.” She nodded, leaving them alone. Monday was in two days, Draco didn’t really want to think about going back to classes. He had too much homework yet to get done.

“That was awkward.” Potter said succinctly after McGonagall had walked around the corner.

“I think I want to die.” Draco said.

“Good thing I wasn’t fully hard—that would have been extremely awkward.” Potter said, making Draco flush and make sure no one was around.

“Potter you can’t just _say_ things like that.” Draco whispered.

“Course I can.” Potter smirked, “I just did.”

“You’re horrible.” Draco told him, but didn’t manage to make it sound as scathing as he would like.

“We should probably have a conversation about sex—what we want.” Potter said, he shuffled a bit as he looked at Draco.

“Not in this hallway for Merlin’s sake.” Draco said, running his fingers through his hair and feeling a bit panicked.

“Ok—wherever we’re going then?” Potter asked softly. And Draco knew he was trying to make Draco feel better, but there was nothing in the conversation about sex that he wouldn’t get anxious about. Draco tugged his hand, pulling them the remaining feet to the Room of Requirement.

“Don’t think of anything.” Draco instructed Potter, “It should be easy.” Potter snorted, but stepped back so Draco could ask what he wanted from the room. After a few passes, a door appeared. He grabbed Potter’s hand and pulled it along to through the door.

Inside was just as he wanted, not that it should have been a surprise. There was a small kitchen set up, and a table for two.

“Let’s make dinner together.” Draco said when Harry was quiet, “Since I don’t know how to do anything—and you do—I thought we might do it together.” Potter was staring, “Is-is this a bad idea?”

“No. It’s wonderful.” Harry grinned, “What are you craving?”

“Something yummy.” Draco answered and Potter laughed, stepping closer to him.

“I got an idea. I’ve made it a bunch of times, so it should be easy. Do you like pork?”

“Yes.” Draco answered against Potter’s lips, stealing a quick kiss.

“And we’re not done with the conversation in the hallway. Mione will kill me if we don’t have it.”

“She’ll never know if we don’t.” Draco said, wringing his hands a bit. Potter gently took each wrist in his hands.

“This is why I want to have the conversation.” He said softly, “Let’s get some dinner started first and maybe a glass of wine? I’ll rely on your expertise for that.”

Potter got all the ingredients out he would need for pork tenderloin. Draco helped spread Dijon mustard all over the outside before putting it in the oven. He explained everything he did along the way and why he did it. Draco thought Potter was an excellent instructor, and he never balked at any of Draco’s ridiculous questions. They also cut up potatoes at the same time, with some veggies, and added those to the oven as well.

Draco opened the bottle of wine as Harry gathered salad ingredients. He apparently made his own dressing he was quite proud of, but didn’t toss it into the salad yet as they had some time before the food was ready.

“Ready?” Potter asked,

“No.” Draco answered, looking at the marble of the counter top, “But go ahead.”

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“This conversation?” Draco looked up hopefully. Potter smiled in a way that made the corner of his eyes crinkle.

“No—this is a bit of awkward so you’re more comfortable later—you _and_ me.” Potter clarified. Draco looked at the bottom of the wine glass, feeling his face heat up, “You don’t like to be touched, and I just want to make sure I’m not scaring you. I’ve never had sex with a guy before—but I want to—with you.”

“I already told you Potter, I don’t mind when you touch me.” Draco was suddenly glad for the counter between them. He wasn’t sure if Potter did it on purpose. But it made it seem a bit easier. If Harry had been touching him, or sitting beside him he might have been more inclined to lie. But Potter staring him dead on with a bit of space felt more business like. Like Draco could say _no._

“You still flinch sometimes.” Harry said softly, “I know it happens, and that’s ok. I just don’t want you to feel like we need to have sex in order for me to be happy. I want to have that with you—but I want to do it when you’re ready.”

“Why wouldn’t I be ready?” Draco asked defensively.

Potter fidgeted a bit, “Don’t be a prat Draco, I’m _trying_ to be kind.”

Draco let out a sigh, “I know—I’m sorry. I just don’t want to be treated like damaged goods because of my past either.” Draco whispered.

“You’re not damaged goods.” Potter told him, squeezing Draco’s hand for a second, “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“I had sex before—with men.” Draco blurted out, “I had sex with a guy from Durmstrang fourth year and then Blaise sixth year.”

“Oh. Ok.” Potter looked surprised, “Fourth year? Weren’t you like fourteen?”

“Yes—early bloomer.” Draco grinned a bit, “I bottomed both times.”

“Did you like it?” Potter’s cheeks were a bit red.

“Yes.” Draco answered honestly.

“I—I wouldn’t mind that—or the opposite way.” Potter’s flush got a bit darker. Draco pictured pushing into Potter and he nearly groaned at the thought. His cock was beginning to show some interest as well.

“I think the first time I want to bottom.” Draco said.

“A-are you sure?” Potter looked at him.

“Yes. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.” Draco admitted, “I might act like a ninny the whole time—

“I want you to enjoy it too.” Potter blurted out.

“I’m sure I will.” Draco frowned at his wine glass, “I just might be a bit nervous.”

“That’s ok.” Potter said with a rush of breath, “And if we get into it and you don’t want to—then we can do something else. And- and we don’t have to do any of it until later if we don’t want.”

“I think I’d like that—I just want to get used to—all the other stuff first.” Draco didn’t think he could turn more red and McGonagall had caught him a few minutes ago.

Harry smiled brightly, “Yeah—ok.”

“Are we done talking about it now?”

“For now.” Harry said mysteriously, glancing at the timer. There was a bit more than twenty minutes left, “Can I suck you off?”

Draco choked on the wine he was swallowing, “Fucking hell Potter.” He managed to say between coughs.

“Is that a yes?” Harry’s eyes pierced through Draco and he managed to nod. Harry walked around the counter and Draco could feel his cock thickening. His hands were shaking a bit as the intertwined with Harry’s. He moved slowly, pressing his lips against Draco’s. Draco pulled his fingers away from Harry so he could run them through his hair. Potter ran his fingers along the seam of his trousers and Draco flinched.

“Alright?” Potter asked.

Draco nodded, “Yeah.” His heart was racing and his cock ached, but there was this fear buried deep in his gut that he was trying to ignore. When he pressed his palm against Draco’s cock again, Draco pushed up into it. It was difficult to get any sort of consistent friction in his slacks, but his cock filled out fully at the attention. Potter’s light, teasing touches through the fabric made Draco tingle all over.

Harry’s fingers went to the button, “Can I?”

“Yeah.” Draco said shakily.

“You sure?”

“I’m nervous—but yeah.” Draco said with a smile.

“Ok—you can tell me to stop.” Harry said, showing Draco both his hands before unbuttoning the top button, then the next one, “I sort of expected green pants.” He was wearing blue boxer briefs.

“Are you wearing red underwear?” Draco asked.

“Yes.” Harry sounded proud. Draco snorted. This was so different than how he had done any of this before. With the first man he had sex with—it had been an agreed upon ‘losing my virginity’ situation. Draco gave the Durmstrang student all the details about where to meet and what was going to happen. They didn’t have much of a relationship—but Draco knew he wanted it. And he heard rumors that the student was good in bed. There wasn’t much talking, and it was more like a business transaction. With Blaise—it had been all about need. Draco had been in a fucked up place and needed someone to fuck him consistently to make him forget for a bit. There wasn’t emotional attachment.

This was entirely different. With Potter he felt comfortable. Like coming home after a long day and melting into the couch. Not that it wasn’t sexy—because he was turned on more than he had been in a while—but it was wonderful to feel safe and comfortable during sex. Well—more comfortable than not at all. There was still a lump somewhere in his gut that he was determined to ignore or at least push through. He wanted this more than he is frightened of it. Potter slipped between his y-front and wrapped a hand around his cock; Draco flinched again.

“Sorry.” He says a bit breathlessly.

“Want me to stop?” Potter asks.

“Fuck no.” Draco rests his forehead on Potter’s shoulder as he tugs again. His thumb rubs across the tip and Draco’s hips flinch now for an entirely different reason. He couldn’t help the small whimper that left his lips, so Potter made the same motion again.

“Sit back.” Potter instructed. And just like that he knelt between Draco’s legs. It was the sexiest thing Draco had ever seen. Potter’s green eyes were scanning over him like an intricate puzzle, “Arse up—I’m going to pull off your trousers—and your pants.” He told Draco. Draco nodded, lifting up as Harry pulled off his trousers and pants. His cock was fully hard, curving up to his stomach.

“So blonde.” Harry marveled, running his fingers through his leg hair, “Almost looks like you don’t have hair.” He kissed the inside of his thigh, and Draco’s cock bobbed in anticipation. Without any more preamble Potter took his cock into his mouth. Draco nearly came out of his skin.

“Draco?”

“Yeah?” His voice is strained, looking up at the ceiling.

“You alright?”

“Please don’t stop.” Draco looked down at Harry.

“Ok—don’t be afraid to stop me. I’ve never done this before.” Harry told him seriously.

“Don’t use your teeth.”

“Funny enough, I figured that one out for myself.” Potter managed to look like an arrogant fuck before bobbing back down on his cock. Draco jolted again, but moaned so Harry must have taken it as a sign to continue. Draco grasped the edge of the chair as tightly as possible to keep from coming in two seconds. His body was wound tight as pleasure curled low in his body. Harry sucked him carefully, moving up and down as if there wasn’t a care in the world. Slowly he worked up to taking more of Draco’s cock. One hand cupped Draco’s balls and rolled them between his fingers. Every once and awhile there was a slurping sound, or a hiss from Draco.

Harry took a finger back behind his balls and gently rubbed it. Draco opened his legs wider, “Fuck!” He couldn’t quite contain the flex of his hips. He was trying not to choke Potter, but it felt too good, “Harry.” He groaned, trying to warn how close he was to coming. His fingers gripped the chair tighter as Potter moved in a rhythm, rubbing his perineum at the same time.

The edge was just about to crest, and Draco couldn’t help his hand leaving the chair to grasp Potter’s head. That one finger moved a bit further back and rubbed his arsehole with a deep suck of his cock and Draco came instantly. Potter kept sucking as he came, letting out a sharp breath as he did.

“St-stop!” Draco stuttered when the pleasure was too much.

“Hm.” Potter hummed, standing up, “Not bad?”

“Not bad.” Draco confirmed, his breathing still uneven. He suddenly realized he might have to get Potter off now, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was ready. It made him nervous.

“You don’t have to do anything Draco.” Potter murmured. Draco stopped looking at the ceiling and turned to him with a confused look, “I could feel you tensing up.”

“I want to but I –” Draco whispered, biting his lip, not sure how he was going to do it. He reached out and pulled Harry a bit closer, unbuttoning his top button of his jeans. Potter moved his hands slowly behind his back.

“I won’t move—whatever you’re comfortable with.” Harry swore. Draco looked up into his eyes. They stared back at Draco without judgment or expectation. Draco pressed a kiss against Harry’s lips, unzipping his jeans at the same time. Determined not to really look down and see what he was doing, his hand slipped blindly down, grasping Harry’s cock full on. Unsurprisingly, the world didn’t fall apart. Draco smiled a bit to himself against Harry’s lips, stroking his cock. It was hot and heavy in his hand, and didn’t feel all that different than stroking himself.

Draco stepped closer, getting a better angle as he worked Harry’s cock and looked down for just a moment but not so long that he would get nervous. He wasn’t sure if seeing Harry’s cock _would_ make him nervous, but he knew he was enjoying what he was doing now. Draco kissed up Harry’s neck in time with his stroke. Draco found out quickly that Potter liked his foreskin played with; his hips flexed every time.

“Draco—not-not going to—” His head dropped back.

“I want to see you come.” Draco murmured into Potter’s ear, “Please.” He whispered.

“Fuck.” Potter hissed right before he came into Draco’s hand. Potter groaned, dropping his head to Draco’s shoulder as Draco stroked him through his orgasm. His hand was covered in cum.

The buzzer for the food going off made them both jump. Harry smiled at Draco before laughing. Draco started laughing as well, grabbing his wand with his left hand to clean them both up. Potter zipped up his jeans before running over to the oven.

Dinner was filled with laughter. Draco felt lighter than he had in a long time. There wasn't a weight on his shoulders that he hadn't realized he was carrying. He had tastier meals, but this one was going to live on as one of his favorites. Potter was a bit more handsy now that he had sucked Draco’s cock, but Draco didn’t mind at all. They walked back to Slytherin House before dessert and ate ice cream in Draco’s bed in just their pants. Draco didn’t hesitate to curl up next to Potter, throwing an arm around his waist as he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I predict three more chapters. maybe four. Just as a warning. Remember when I tried to make this story five chapters? Lol. Fun times.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explorations, getting comfortable, business meetings, and understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:
> 
> Fluff and smut.

“People come back to school tonight.” Draco informed Harry. They were sitting out by the lake. It was one of those days that was just warm enough to be comfortable outside, and only because they had been used to frigid weather. They had played Quidditch for a few hours. Draco was sweaty and gross. They had plopped down by the lake in exhaustion, too weak to make the hike up to the castle.

“Yes.” Harry said, “I don’t want to go to class tomorrow.”

“Me either.” Draco let out a sigh, “Are we—are you I guess, since I don’t have—” Draco bit his lip. Harry nudged his thigh, “Are we going to tell people?”

“My plan is to tell Hermione when I see her. We should probably tell Luna too.” Potter answered.

“So you want to tell people?”

“Well, I don’t want to take an advert out in the Prophet—but I want my friends to know.” Harry said with frown, looking up at Draco, “The press is fucking nuts. It’s not that I don’t want to—but holding your hand in public would cause a frenzy if someone we don’t trust tells the Prophet.”

“I agree.” Draco said with a sigh of relief, “I was a bit worried you were going to be a Gryffindor and insist on it. I don’t mind keeping it from the press for awhile.”

“The press can know we’re friends though—I don’t mind that. So you can hang out with us.” Harry clarified. Draco nodded slowly, “I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed of—”

“No” Draco interrupted, shaking his head, “I want this too—it gives us both time. And I don’t want the press up in my business either.”

“If you start to worry about it—let me know.” Harry said, pushing his dark hair out of his face.

“I will. I promise.” Draco swore.

“Now, want to head to the locker rooms to shower quick before we meet up with George?” They were meeting him in Hogsmeade at Hogs Head. George’s reply was very business like, and Draco couldn’t quite figure out what that meant.

“Yeah.” Quidditch had been a distraction for Draco’s nerves. He packed a few prototypes to show George, if he let Draco get that far. Draco was wrapped up in his own head as he pushed through the doors into the Slytherin locker room. He stripped and turned on the shower head.

“Need help?” Potter’s voice made him jump.

“How’d you get in here?” Draco squeaked, covering himself up.

Potter smiled, “The locker rooms aren’t password protected. I just grabbed my stuff and walked across the hall.” Potter raised his brow as he looked Draco up and down, “So, can I join you?”

“I believe you asked if I needed help.” Draco said, letting his hands fall to the side. It was clear Potter liked what he saw, “And yes, you can wash my hair.” Potter snorted, pulling off his sweaty shirt as he did so. Draco watched as he unbuckled his Quidditch trousers and shucked them off, his heart was pounding so hard in his chest he was a bit worried Potter could hear it. He couldn’t quite believe it as Potter turned on the showerhead next to Draco.

“I can see why you need help.” Potter said with his eyes closed, running his fingers through his hair a bit as the water ran over his face. The water cascaded down his body and Draco couldn’t help but want to watch every droplet. He looked like a wet dream, “You’re not doing anything.”

“Shut up Potter.” Draco scowled. Potter smirked, looking obnoxious. Draco grabbed his shampoo bottle and gave it to him, “I have house elves that do this.”

“Do you really?” Potter asked.

Draco laughed, “No, I wash my own hair.” The banter helped him relax. The panic he was sure would keep him from doing naked things with Potter never surfaced. Harry moved closer, but Draco trusted Potter not to do anything he didn’t want.

“Smells good—kinda smells like you.” Potter said, pouring a small amount in his hand, “Turn around.” He instructed. Draco did as he was ordered, dropping his head back a bit for easier access. They were about the same height, with Draco maybe getting an extra bit. But with Potter’s poofy hair they looked about the same. Harry’s fingers were gentle in his hair, swirling the shampoo through. He was thorough, massaging his head with his thumbs down the center of his head.

“We should do this in the prefect’s bath so I can nap.” Draco hummed contently.

 “That sounds like an excellent idea.” Potter kissed his shoulder with his hands on Draco’s hips, “You can rinse now.” Draco stepped under the spray but Potter didn’t let go of him.

“You need some shampoo too.” Draco reminded him, running his fingers through his hair to get the soap out.

“I know.” Potter let go and Draco heard the cap come off.

“And I need help with conditioner as well.”

“Isn’t that a girl thing?” Potter asked.

“It is certainly not just a girl thing.” Draco said indignantly. Potter grinned at him, stepping under his own showerhead to rinse off. Draco grabbed his conditioner, “It will probably make that mop a bit more tame.”

“Nothing makes this more tame. It’s magic resistant—as well as scissors.” Harry added with a grin.

“How do you figure?” Draco asked with a skeptical brow raised.

“My aunt once cut my hair—shaved it really. But kept my bangs to hide my ‘horrible scar’.” Harry looked a bit uncomfortable as he said it, taking the conditioner and put it in Draco’s hair, “I was terrified to go to school the next day—I looked absolutely ridiculous. Next morning I woke up with my hair back to normal.” Harry snorted as his fingers massaged the conditioner through his hair, “I kept trying to tell her I didn’t do anything, but she didn’t believe me. I think I got nothing but canned tuna for a week—I still can’t eat the stuff.”

Draco had heard rumors of Potter’s home life and when Potter mentioned it briefly, but he yearned to hear more. His heart tightened.

“I heard rumors about the muggles that raised you.” Draco said tentatively.

“Hm.” Harry hummed, rubbing in the conditioner a bit more, “You can rinse.”

“Any of the rumors true?”

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t know the rumors.” Harry said evasively.

“They were mean, let you starve and didn’t let you buy clothes.” Draco told him, rinsing his hair. Draco took a peak at Potter who was rubbing the conditioner through his own hair. He was back under his own showerhead, like he was trying to run away.

“Those are true—well, sort of. I didn’t know I had money to buy my own clothes until I got access to my parent’s vault when I was eleven. My aunt and uncle definitely didn’t know about their fortune, because they complained all the time about the financial burden I was on them.” Potter shrugged, rinsing the conditioner, “Wow—this makes my hair feel smooth.”

“Hm.” Draco hummed, wrapping his arm around Potter’s waist. Draco didn’t even think about it as he pressed closer to Harry. Potter tensed for a moment, his eyes still closed under the spray and then relaxed.

“I don’t like talking about it—how I was raised. It does no good to complain about it now.”

“All I do is complain about how I was raised—it made me a prejudiced idiot.” Draco told him, kissing his neck. Potter smiled a bit, wrapping his arms around Draco and slanting his lips over Draco’s. The kiss was fiendish, and being naked only added fuel. Draco’s cock started to fill as he wrapped himself around Potter, like he could protect him from his past.

Potter pushed him back against the tiled wall and Draco gasped, “Fuck!”

“Sorry! What?” Potter backed up.

“Tile is fucking cold!” Draco said, pushing his back against the wall again. It wasn’t as bad this time, “Ok—you can continue now.” Potter smiled, stepping into his embrace again. This time, Potter grasped his thighs and hauled him up. Draco wrapped his legs around his waist, their cocks rubbing against each other as he did. Harry’s fingers gripped his arse tighter, groaning into his mouth.

Draco rolled his hips, trying to get a steady rhythm against his cock. He managed to untangle his fingers out of Potter’s hair, and brought it between them two of them. He wrapped his hand around both their cocks.

“Christ.” Potter gasped, his hands digging harder into Draco’s arse. He started massaging Draco’s butt in time with Draco’s strokes. Heat curled in his belly and Draco flexed his toes. His fingers rubbed along Draco’s rim, but didn’t go inside. The need boiled in Draco enough to over power fear.

“Y-you can use your fingers.” Draco tried to sound firm but it came out all breathy.

“Tell me if you want to stop.” Harry did sound confident, so Draco nodded. Harry slipped his index finger inside. Draco tensed for a moment so Harry paused.

“I’m ok.” Draco said.

“If you’re sure.” Harry looked at him, so Draco nodded. He was glad Harry didn’t question him too much—and took his word for it. Harry didn’t go very far inside, just small and shallow movements. It felt…good. Too good. He squeezed his eyes shut; Potter’s breath on his lips. He adjusted his body a bit, moving his legs. He suddenly remembered his right hand and started stroking their cocks.

The pleasure sparked up Draco’s spine.

“Salazar.” He whispered, wiping precum around their cocks so it was slicker.

“I’m going to—fuck.” Harry groaned, kissing Draco’s lips as his hips twitched and his cock jumped in Draco’s hand. Draco could feel him come rather than see it, kissing Potter’s jaw. The slickness only made Draco like it more, the one finger in his arse growing more bold and deeper, “Don’t come.” Potter said, holding off his hand.

“Merlin Harry—why not?” Draco asked, tugging his cock.

“I’ll suck you while I finger you.” Harry said succinctly.

“Yeah.” Draco nodded. Potter grinned at him before putting Draco down and dropping to his knees.

Draco was never going to get over this.

Potter moved his hands a bit to get better access to Draco’s bum, widening his stance a bit. He swallowed Draco’s cock with more ease than what he did the first time.

“Salazar.” Draco groaned. That finger plus the sucking was going to make him come in seconds. It felt too good. He wanted more—he couldn’t quite believe he wanted more, “Harry—Harry please don’t stop.” Draco arched up on his feet, his orgasm was just right there. Another bob of Potter’s head and a twist of his finger made Draco cry out. His hand slapped against the wall as his orgasm crested, moaning as he did.

He didn’t realize how loud he was being until all he could hear was the sound of the shower.

“I’m loud.” Draco said as Potter stood up.

“I like it.” Harry grinned.

“It’s embarrassing.” He said with a blush as Potter moved him back under the spray.

“Silencing charms—I’m the only one that will hear it.” Harry told him, passing him the soap.

“But you’re not loud.”

“I like it.” Potter said again with a cocky grin. Draco snorted, splashing water at him, “Come on—we better hurry up if we’re going to meet George.”

 

Draco was picking at the label on his beer with his right hand and simultaneously trying to make his left sleeve longer. He didn’t want to stare at the door, but he couldn’t help but turn his head every time it opened.

“Draco, it will be alright. Even if it all goes to hell, I promise I’ll blow you after.”

“I’m so anxious I could puke, do not give me a hard on to top it all off.” Draco snapped. Potter just smiled at him.

“If this doesn’t work, we’ll figure something else out.” Harry told him, squeezing his leg, “This isn’t your only option.”

“We?”

“We.” Harry said again.

Draco didn’t notice the door opening this time.

“Hey.” Harry’s voice was so warm it felt like a bed in wintertime. Potter moved around the table and hugged his friend tightly. The hug went on for a while, and Draco noticed George’s white knuckles from gripping Harry so tightly.

“Don’t be such a stranger.” The voice was muffled, but it emotional.

“I don’t want to be.” Harry whispered back.

“Then I expect more visits.” George squeezed him a bit tighter before letting him go, “Bill said you applied to be a curse breaker.”

“H-he knows about that?”

“It was the talk of the office.” George said with a smile, “ _The Harry Potter_ applied to be a curse breaker.”

“I think it’d be better if they dropped ‘the’.” Potter looked uncomfortable, trying to look anywhere but at George. George grasped his hand and squeezed his arm.

“I’m happy for you—curse breaking never appealed to me, but Bill loves it.”

Potter turned red and still didn’t look up, “It’s a bit different than expected.” He managed to whisper. Draco could barely hear his words because he said them so quietly.

“Harry, you’re talking to me. That is probably the motto of my whole life.” George said with a smile. Harry looked up with a brilliant grin of his own, “Speaking of unexpected.” He turned to look at Draco. Draco flushed.

“I promise it’s worth your time.” Harry said, sitting down next to Draco.

“You haven’t steered me wrong yet.” George sat down and looked at Draco, “Show me what you got.”

Draco had no idea what came out of his mouth, but he didn’t stop talking for over an hour. When he walked away from the pub later, it was like he completely blacked out. He didn’t remember the first thing he said to George, let alone his entire pitch. He knew he showed George the three prototypes he brought and how they worked. Potter was a willing demonstration, of course. George asked questions, but Draco would be hard pressed to remember what any of them were.

“This is all great—but I don’t like you.” George said at the end.

“I know.” Draco’s heart sank. He stared at the grains on the wood table.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“I’ll show you how I make all three of these designs.” Draco said, he knew he had to offer some skin in the game, “That way even if I quit, or something goes wrong—you still can make money.”

George was silent for a moment, “How about we do something temporary until I find out if I will let you work for me. We’ll put a separate line of Malfoy jewelry in the shop, you can use the experimental rooms whenever you wish—once you graduate, of course. If the line does well, and I don’t want to murder you—then we’ll renegotiate after three months.”

Draco frowned as he looked up, “I don’t need my name on anything. I just want a percent of what’s sold.”

George nodded slowly, staring at Draco a bit too intently, “We’ll negotiate all that plus base salary once you graduate—unless you want to work now? I am all for leaving school without NEWTs.” He smirked and Harry chuckled.

“No—I want to finish school.” Draco said.

“Ok. Well then, I’ll see you the Monday after you graduate. I’ll send an owl with my official offer.” George stood up, adjusting his jacket. Draco immediately stood up.

“Thank you.” Draco said, offering his hand.

George took it, “You say one thing about my family, and you’re gone. One word about muggle borns, and you’re gone. Got it? I don’t care if you work for me for six years and that happens.”

Draco nodded, “Won’t be a problem.” He promised.

“We’ll see.” George raised a brow, “And I want you to understand the only reason why I’m giving you a chance is because he vouched for you.” George pointed at Harry, “I don’t know what you did to convince him, but let me be clear—you hurt him, and you’re out. Understand?”

“Yes. I swear, I’m not in this for revenge, or some sort of convoluted plot to save my name. I think I have something here that could help people. And I don’t think anyone would buy it from a Death Eater.”

“We’ll see then” George still sounded skeptical, but that was ok as long as he gave Draco a chance. George then turned to Harry, “Can I speak to you outside for a moment?”

“Sure.” Potter jumped up and followed him out of the pub.

Draco’s breathing quickened when they left. He pressed his hand up against his chest, not really sure why he was panicking if everything went so well.

“Fucking fuck.” He whispered into the table.

“Here.” A dirty glass of whiskey was placed in front of him by a man looking shockingly like Dumbledore. Draco’s eyes blew out wide as he gasped, jumping away. Draco deserves this, someone haunting him. He shouldn’t get anything positive after what he’s done, “Whiskey helps the nerves.”

“Y-you are—

“Aberforth.” The man answered, “Your headmaster was my brother.”

“Oh.” Draco said, deflating a bit.

“Drink the whiskey boy.” Aberforth told him sternly, so Draco did as he ordered. It went down like fire, and Draco shivered as he placed the empty glass on the table.

“Draco?” Potter called from the doorway, “Want to head back?”

“Yeah.” Draco grabbed his cloak then turned to Aberforth, “Thank you.”

“Don’t get in trouble back at the castle now.” He advised and Draco nodded, following Harry out the door.

“Hermione! Ron!” Harry’s surprised tone made Draco flinch. The two members of the golden trio were standing outside the bar.

“Harry.” Hermione’s voice oozed with familiarity and comfort. Draco immediately felt out of place. His whole body was stiff. They hugged tightly.

“Excuse me.” Draco said, moving around Weasel— _Weasley_ – he had just promised George.

“George told us you were here, wouldn’t say why.” He heard Weasley say as he walked out and around. Draco didn’t realize he was waiting to hear Potter call for him until he was at least two houses down. But he didn’t.

Draco walked back to Hogwarts alone.

 

Draco knew exactly where he needed to go as soon as he walked into the castle. He walked toward Isaac’s room, thinking he would be back to the castle by this point.

“Hey Draco, what’s up?” Isaac asked as he moved paperwork outside.

The whole break spewed out of him before he could stop himself. He told Isaac _everything_. He managed to gloss over extremely specific details, but he told him everything else. All up to the point where Harry ditched him to be with his friends.

“Kinda sounds like you ditched him.” Isaac said as he handed Draco a cup of tea.

“That’s all you have to say?” Draco asked, knowing he sounded a bit crazy.

“I’m proud of you for moving forward with your inventions. That was brave of you to talk to George Weasley.”

“I’m dating _Harry Potter_. Boy Wonder. The Golden Child. Boy Who Lived. I’m a _Death Eater_.”

“You were. And it sounds like Harry finds it less of an issue than you do.”

“I was a twat to his friends for years—let alone how I treated him. I made _fun_ of him for being afraid of dementors. I mean, who does that?”

“And yet he still got you off.”

“ _Isaac_ ” Draco said scandalized, turning bright red, “That’s not the point.”

“It is the point. It’s not like you tricked Harry into this Draco. He knows your past. You don’t have to have that awkward conversation with someone telling them that you were a massive twat for years and served an evil overlord. He knows that already.”

Draco frowned and froze in place at Isaac’s words, “I didn’t think of that.”

“And I think you both will have to talk about your past—but give yourself some time Draco. And give Harry time. Not too much time, of course. You don’t deserve to be treated poorly by Harry in a relationship. And ignoring an elephant in the room for too long can do more harm than good—but get to know each other more and face the elephant together.”

“Why is there an elephant in the room?” Draco asked, confused.

“Oh—it’s a muggle phrase.” Isaac said with a small smile, “Just means you’re not talking about something massive that you both know is there. It can be a dragon if you prefer.”

“I just don’t think he’ll tell his friends.”

“You didn’t give him the chance to.” Isaac pointed out, “He might be thinking you ran away so he couldn’t tell his friends.”

Draco’s shoulders slumped, “Good point.”

“I’ll be the first person to tell you if I don’t think it’s a good idea—but I do think this is good for you Draco.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” Isaac nodded, “You seem happy, from what you said he appears to be very conscientious of your past but making you feel comfortable enough to be sexually active.”

“Please don’t say those words.” Draco cringed, feeling horribly awkward.

Isaac laughed, “You should be glad Lindsey isn’t here, she’d press you for all the sordid details.” Draco frowned, “But considering your past Draco—Harry didn’t push you, did he?”

“No. He made us talk about it.” Draco scrunched up his nose, wanting to run out of the room, “Wanted to make sure we were on the same page and that we didn’t do anything that upset me.”

“Sounds perfect for you.” Isaac had a teasing smile on his lips, “And seeing how uncomfortable you are now, I’m sure Harry had to needle you a bit to get you to talk.”

“I tried to get out of it—but he’s persuasive.” Draco agreed.

“Tell me more about your visit with your Mum.” Draco was grateful for the change of subject, so he eagerly jumped into it.

 

Draco went back to his own room that night. He wanted to talk to Harry, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it. He didn’t think walking up and knocking on the Gryffindor Portrait was the answer. Especially since he was unsure how Potter felt about outing their relationship.

“Draco?” Potter’s voice broke him from his revelry. He was sitting on his bed, trying to edit his Transfiguration essay but he had been lost in thought. Potter pulled the invisibility cloak off his shoulders.

“Wasn’t sure I was going to see you.” Draco said.

“I like being here.” Harry said awkwardly, “Am I unwelcome?”

“No—you can always come here.” Draco said resolutely. Harry’s shoulders dropped as he relaxed and he put his cloak to the side, slipping off his shoes as he crawled on top of the bed.

“I told them you know—Ron and Mione.”

“You did?”

“Yeah—I’m not really good at hiding things from them—I hope that’s ok.”

“Yeah. I want you to tell them—I just—I didn’t know if you were going to.”

“I told them everything—well, not in detail and not the stuff you told me in confidence.” Potter admitted, turning a bit red, “Even told them about me applying to be a Curse Breaker.”

“What’d they say?”

“Hermione was receptive. Said it was good to see me look happy—apparently I haven’t in a long time—and rested.” His blush deepened as he wrapped his arms around his legs, “She said she was glad I was going to be a curse breaker, said I’m good at figuring out puzzles.” He obviously looked chuffed at Hermione’s compliment, “She has concerns but—like I said, she’s receptive.”

“And Weasley?”

“Not as much.” Potter said honestly, flashing his eyes briefly at Draco, “The history with your family and his family—plus he hasn’t seen you since—since last May.”

“I’m not a completely different person.”

“No, definitely not.” Potter smiled a bit, “But you are different in some ways. I like you now. And I think I could have liked you then—” Draco scoffed, “Well, maybe if we didn’t have the war between us and everything—but on paper we have always had a lot in common. We’re competitive, love Quidditch—

“Get tangled up with mass murderers—though for two completely different reasons.”

Potter laughed, reaching out his hand to Draco. Draco immediately wove his fingers through his and pulled him close. Draco put his scroll on the bedside table and curled into Potter, kissing him briefly.

“Let me put on pajamas.” Potter said, kissing him again before slipping away from him. Potter stripped into his boxers and grabbed his worn-out pajama bottoms. He got back into bed without a shirt. Draco got under the covers and pulled Harry close. The kiss was languid, but fire heated in Draco’s abdomen all the same, “I have a thought.”

“I can see how this is a momentous occasion.” Draco said into Potter’s lips.

“Want to fuck my thighs?” Harry asked. Draco couldn’t think, “Finally rendered you speechless?”

“Fuck off.” Draco snogged him so roughly it was more teeth than kiss. He pulled down Potter’s pajama bottoms and pants all in one go. Potter’s cock was hard, jutting up against his stomach. It was different to see it like this—in a bed. Draco couldn’t help but run his fingers over it. Potter’s cock twitched a bit, leaking precum on his stomach. Draco looked up at Potter.

“You can do whatever you’re comfortable with—or we can skip straight to the thigh fucking.” Harry said, his eyes soft. Draco settled a bit more between Harry’s legs, using a finger to go up the underside of Harry’s cock. It was warm, not intimidating—but he didn’t say that out loud. Harry would have taken it the wrong way. And it wasn’t like Potter was small—he just wasn’t—wasn’t—wasn’t _him_. Draco didn’t think about it too much before licking a stripe up the vein on Potter’s cock. Harry took in a sharp breath, grasping the sheets tightly.

Draco sort of leaned back, wondering if he was going to panic. But he didn’t feel like panicking at all—he felt like doing that again. So he did. It was small licks, not really taking Potter completely into his mouth. Potter was making these little gasping sounds, hissing and his breath was shallow. Draco wanted more of that. He took Potter into his mouth and the gasp he got was _delightful_. The thrust upward, not so much. Draco choked a bit, swallowing semen down the wrong pipe.

“Fuck! Sorry. Sorry.” Harry tried to pull away but Draco grasped his thighs.

“I’m fine—just keep those hips under control.” Draco said, his voice still caught tight in his throat. He coughed a bit, his eyes watering.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said again.

Draco laughed, “I’m ok, I promise. Can I try again?”

“You don’t have to if—

“Potter, lie back and let me suck your cock.”

“Well when you put it that way.” Potter said.

“Are you complaining?” Draco asked, leaning over Potter’s cock and letting his breath blow over it. It twitched upward, grazing his chin.

“Fuck no.” Potter groaned. Draco rewarded him by taking his cock back in his mouth. He was a bit more careful this time and didn’t take Potter too deep at first—mindful of his hips. It took a moment to work up courage, but then he did. Potter was soon squirming underneath of him, but at least his hips didn’t move up.

“Stop!” Potter yelled out. Draco immediately backed away, “ _Accio Lube_.” It flew from his jeans that were on the floor.

“You can do wandless magic?” Draco asked.

“Yes—only some spells.” Potter was heaving as he handed Draco the lube, “Why are we talking about this?”

“I don’t know.” Draco said, tapping Potter’s thigh, “Flip over.”

“You brought it up.” Potter grumbled, rolling over.

Draco definitely had a thing for backs. He wasn’t sure when it started, but staring down at Harry, he realized it was a thing. He loved how his shoulders moved and how his back sloped down. There was sweat on it, only giving it a glisten that made Draco want to drool.

“Stop staring.” Potter huffed, his face pink as he had arched back to look up at Draco.

“Put your arse up then.” Draco said with a smirk. Potter’s face got more red, but he did as he was asked. Draco leaned over and kissed Potter’s lips, uncapping the lube with one hand as he did. He sat back and poured some in his hands, then rubbed it between Potter’s legs. Draco made sure to slip between his legs too, running his fingers down his perineum, cupping his balls for a moment and then his cock. He made sure it was slick before budging up between his legs.

“Wait.” Potter said, adjusting them a bit, “You want my legs on the inside.”

“Why?”

“Because then it’s tighter.” Harry answered, his face flush. Draco was sure he made some sort of noise, but he wasn’t proud of it. Draco moved his legs on the outside, then pushed his cock between Harry’s thighs.

“Salazar.” Draco groaned. His cock was squeezed in all the right places and fuck if it didn’t feel so delightful to be pressed against Harry. Draco gripped Harry’s hips tighter as he pulled back and thrust again. His entire body was tingling and he was glad he had played with Potter before this because there was no fucking way in hell he was going to last.

“That’s it Draco, fuck me.” Potter encouraged.

_Merlin_. Draco’s entire body felt on fire from Potter’s praise, and it just kept pouring out of him. Draco drank up every bit of it, put every ounce he had into fucking Harry’s thighs. He reached around and pulled Harry’s cock, and only then did the praise cease as he came silently. Draco wasn’t too far behind, his hips thrusting of their own accord.

“I want to see you come. _Please_ Draco.” That’s all it took. Draco came in long spurts.

Draco collapsed on Potter’s back as Potter’s legs fell flat. It was a bit sticky and gross, but Draco was too content to care. Draco moved off to the side and Potter put his head on his shoulder, throwing a leg between his own. It was a bit strange—Draco never thought about holding him like this. He always pictured himself in a more submissive role—but he liked it. Draco squeezed Potter tight just as a cleaning charm went over them.

“Wandless and silent? I’m impressed.” Draco hummed, then frowned, “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” Potter said in his obnoxiously arrogant voice, kissing his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think two more chapters! Maybe three.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wins and losses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been away too long! Been going through a bit of a rough patch, and I didn't really realize how it was extending to my writing. The self consciousness as seeped through everywhere, so I was hyper analyzing and criticizing, which is not at all helpful to posting. 
> 
> Sooo here's my chapter :)

It was a bit like being in the Slytherin dorm again. Well, he was in Slytherin, but having roommates again. Potter got up a bit later than he did to get ready for breakfast. He seemed just as willing to talk as Draco in the morning—which was not at all. They did touch each other though, as a casual reminder that they would be friendly as soon as they were capable of opening their eyes.

“You going to wear your cloak out?” Draco asked as they were about to leave for breakfast.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m allowed to stay in other house. Are there rules for this?”

Draco frowned, “I don’t know.”

“We can ask Hermione at breakfast.” Potter pulled the cloak over his shoulders, “Want to sit with me at breakfast?” For a moment he was just a floating head and then he was completely invisible.

“It’s weird talking to someone you can’t see.” Draco announced as he walked down the steps and into the common room.

“I used to go to Hogsmeade like this third year.”

“I KNEW IT!” Draco glared at empty space.

“What?” A terrified second year looked at him.

“Fuck, nothing, just forgot an assignment that was due.” Draco turned bright red and walked through the common room door without making sure Potter followed him, “I feel like a crazy person talking to myself.” Draco said, looking around for Potter. It was silent—did he get caught back in the common room?

“You are by yourself.”

“Fuck _off_.” Draco said with a laugh as Potter pulled off his cloak. Draco shoved him as they walked into the Great Hall. People stared at them as they walked, Draco was instantly aware of the eyes.

“Come on.” Harry urged him to the Gryffindor table. They hadn’t really agreed to this, but Draco didn’t care much as he sat down. The entire Gryffindor table was staring at him. Harry placed his hand on Draco’s thigh, subtle enough that no one noticed.

“Draco, did you have a nice break?” Granger asked, like she talked to him all the time.

“I did.” Draco answered, “Finished most of my homework.”

“Did it take you forever to do the Arithmancy?”

“Yes.” Draco answered, asking her a question about one of the problems. People kept staring, but the tension lessened. Harry rubbed his leg a bit as Draco talked. Draco filled his plate with a few things and when he noticed Potter hadn’t touched anything, he filled Potter’s too.

“Morning.” Luna said with little fanfare, sitting down next to Draco.

“Good morning Luna.” Draco replies. She started a conversation about thestrals that Draco doesn’t particularly care about, but it has pulled in a few people, “Eat.” Draco whispers to Harry.

“I—I just want to make sure that—”

“You gain all the energy you depleted from last night.” Draco finished, making Harry snort and smile, “Eat.”

“Yes sir.” Draco rolled his eyes at the sass, but Harry tucked into his food. Granger had a watchful eye on both of them as they finished breakfast.

 

Granger finally got him alone in Arithmancy. It was a few classes later in the day. He was sort of dreading it. He wondered if she was going to punch him in the face. Granger hadn’t seemed upset, but that was libel to change the moment she got him alone.

She sat down next to him like she usually did in Arithmancy, but didn’t say a word. The tension was building up so much that Draco felt like he was going to explode.

“I’m not fucking with him.” He finally blurted out.

“I didn’t think you were.” Granger said calmly, “Cause if you were, that would be a serious risk to your already demolished reputation.” It sounded like a threat.

“I didn’t think about that, but you’re right—and that’s not the reason.”

“So why are you?” She asked.

“He has this silly notion in his head we aren’t that different.” Draco huffed, “We are completely different.” Draco fidgeted, “But he makes me feel more centered, like I’m not insane. Like I can relax enough to find out—” Draco’s voice cut out and he cleared it. He didn’t realize he felt so emotional about this, “and I think I do the same for him as well. And we _are_ different. So it’s nice to hear things from a different perspective. And I tell him to-to speak up about what he wants.” Draco stuttered a bit at the end.

“About being an auror?” Hermione asked.

“He hasn’t wanted to be one for a while, just didn’t want to disappoint anyone.” Draco whispered a bit since the professor was walking around.  

“He isn’t good at asking for what he needs. His family didn’t really allow for that.” Hermione whispered back.

Draco scowled, “Every story I hear sounds worse.”

“He told you things?” Hermione asked, but she didn’t conceal her surprise as well as she thought.

“Yes.”

“Ron’s told me most, I don’t really interact with his family that often. The Weasley’s have—it’s just awful. Mad-Eye actually threatened them one year, but it didn’t help much.”

“Merlin’s beard.” Draco scowled. He knew the man that turned him into a ferret wasn’t actually Mad Eye, but the man still scared the shit out of him.

“He hasn’t seen them since—since everything.” Hermione said, “He made sure they knew to come out of hiding.”

“I take it Weasley didn’t take the news well.”

“No.” Hermione grimaced.

“He sort of glossed over it.” Draco frowned. They fell into a silence, both scribbling down notes. Granger looked like she was thinking about saying something, so Draco waited.

“Fifth year he got a scar on the back of his hand from Umbridge. He hid it from both of us for weeks and then when I finally found out, I tried to get him to tell someone—anyone—and he refused.” Granger frowned, “He won’t tell you something is horrible. That’s why—I worry you’ll take advantage of him.” She pressed the edge of her parchment flat against the desk, “Harry is one of the kindest people I know. He hardly ever thinks of himself. I always—picture him with someone that protects him from himself. I just don’t think you’re one of those people.” It was said as kindly as something like that could be said, “You telling me you’re helping him speak his mind gives me more reason to hope—I just—I don’t know—it’s hard to believe.”

Draco wasn’t sure why he felt like crying. It wasn’t like this was necessarily a surprise. Of course, he wasn’t going to get a ringing endorsement from Granger. But it still hurt.

 

After classes, Draco headed down to the lake. He started drawing all sorts of things on his arms. He wished he could run away from all of this. Somewhere where he wasn’t _Draco Malfoy: Death Eater_. Or _Draco Malfoy: Bully_.

“Hey.” Potter’s voice felt like the warm blanket he needed. Harry didn’t ask questions as he sat down next to Draco. He rubbed Draco’s back as Draco continued to draw up his arms. It was quiet, both of them in their own thoughts as they just sat next to each other. Draco felt Harry’s warmth radiating off his body and it felt wonderful just to sit next to someone without any words.

“Do you ever want to run away?” Draco whispered the question.

“All the time.” Harry answered honestly. Draco felt tears of relief come to his eyes as he turned to Potter. Harry smiled back a bit goofy, “Where should we go? Greece? New York?”

“New York sounds fun.” Draco answered, leaning into Potter’s shoulder.

“I’ll get found on Broadway for my amazing singing voice—and you’ll be the next Harry Winston.”

“Who’s that?”

“A famous guy who made jewelry.”

Draco grinned, “I’d like that.”

“You’d get a bunch of tattoos, and I’d get piercings.”

“You’re really liking the idea of me getting tattoos.” Draco said, turning to him with a raised brow.

“Just want you to embrace the bad boy theme.”

Draco barked a laugh and Harry leaned in and kissed him. Draco immediately tensed, “Should we be doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone could see.”

“I know.”

Draco smiled a bit self-consciously, “Yeah, ok.”

“I think it would be ok for us just to—be ourselves m-maybe? But don’t talk to anyone who isn’t one of our friends about it.” Harry bit his lip.

“I like that idea. It was hard at breakfast today to remember not to touch you.” Draco flushed after he said it.

Harry bumped his shoulder, “How did your talk with Mione go?”

“She doesn’t like me, but she’s not going to murder me to keep me away from you.”

“You’ll win her over.” Harry looked at him like he could hang the moon, “I know you can.” Draco felt warm knowing Harry had that much faith in him. That he could look at Draco with anything other than contempt was a miracle, but the adoration pleased Draco more than he could possibly say.

To keep from getting too sappy, Draco went for a subject change, “Did you get a mountain of homework?”

“Yes. Like they didn’t load us up enough before we left for break.” Harry said with a frown, “No Quidditch tonight.”

“No—maybe Friday though? I like playing with you.” Draco said.

Harry hummed, leaning in for another kiss, “I like playing with you too.” The kiss was over too quick, “Want to go to the study room?”

“Yeah.” Draco would have probably said yes to anything he asked.

They meandered up to the hidden room. Luna and Granger were already there doing work.

“Draco! How was your break?” Luna asked.

“Very nice, Potter and I relaxed, caught up on homework. You?”

“Father and I went looking for a creature in Sweden. We didn’t find it, but we have ideas for better traps when we go again in August.”

“Is this one of your creatures that isn’t real?” Draco asked with a sigh. Granger tensed, but Luna just laughed.

“It’s real Draco, the Crumple-Horned Snorkack is elusive, but I’ll find it.” She said with a grin.

Draco laughed, “Ok, I’ll hold my breath while I wait for the proof.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re ridiculous.”

“I made something for you.” Draco said, pulling out one of his jewelry pieces from his bag. It was a leather bracelet imbedded with a few charms, “It will block a stunning spell a few time—but if you get hit more than five times let me know. I’ll redo the spell, it gets a bit wonky after that. And it also deters anyone who means to come up and make fun of you—for hateful reasons. Not like me though, since I tease you because I like you.” Draco blushed, realizing he was rambling since he was a bit nervous, “But that one I couldn’t really test well, since Potter was trying to test it out. So let me know if anything odd happens—well, not your usual odd.” Draco grinned.

Luna took it from his hands almost reverently and kissed his cheek, “It’s wonderful. Thank you Draco.”

“How come you’ve never given me anything?” Harry asked, leaning in a bit too close to see Luna’s bracelet, “Draco and I are dating, just so you know.” He told Luna as he poked the bracelet.

“I told Neville weeks ago in a letter you two were going to date. He said it’d happen when blast-ended Skrewts fly.” She grinned, “We made a bet, so now he has to go to Sweden with me in the fall.”

“He was going to do that anyway.” Harry said with a smile.

“That’s true.” She laughed.

They got to studying since all of them had gotten slammed with homework. Draco made sure to sit far enough away from Potter so he wasn’t distracting. His hands tended to wander when Draco sat too close, he figured that out quickly. Granger and Draco worked out a few Arithmancy homework problems together and then some Runes after that. Draco forgot how much he liked having people to study with, it made looking up questions much easier with multiple brains.

“I’m going to bed.” Draco said with a yawn. It was a few minutes before he had to be back in the Slytherin dungeons.

“I’m coming too.” Potter said, closing his books.

“You’re going to Slytherin?” Granger asked.

“He has the seventh-year room to himself—so I sleep in one of the beds.” Harry explained, turning a bit pink. No one needed to know if Potter slipped into his bed at night, “Is there a rule keeping me out of Slytherin house?”

“I-I don’t think there is.” Hermione sat back, looking a bit stunned, “I can’t believe this is the first inner-house relationship.”

“No—look at Dromeda and Ted.” Harry said.

Hermione frowned, “I’ll have to look it up.”

“Any excuse to read Hogwarts: A History all over again.” That made her laugh.

“Goodnight Harry, Malfoy.”

“Goodnight.” Draco nodded at Luna and Hermione and the two of them walked out.

 

It was a tough couple of weeks for Draco. The rumors were flying that Harry Potter and Draco were seeing each other, but they didn’t bother to confirm them. They had been seen kissing by a few people, holding hands from a few others. The barrage of hexes was endless. But Draco didn’t know how to tell Harry. Isaac encouraged Draco to tell Potter, but Draco couldn’t work up the courage to do it. He was afraid of what Potter might do—or if he would tell McGonagall.

There were more positives than negatives, however. Draco sat with friends for every meal, which was a definite improvement over all the other months. He also had Harry in his bed every night. And if that wasn’t a positive, he didn’t know what was. They took their time getting to know each other, getting comfortable. They still hadn’t had penetrative sex, but they had done just about everything else. Multiple times. The only time Draco flinched now when Potter touched him is when he didn’t know it was Potter.

And Hermione was slowly warming to him. Draco made her a bracelet that protected against stunning spells, made sure there was never any ink stains on her hands (he was quite proud of that one), and if she dug into her bag with that hand she’d always pick out what she was looking for (another one he was proud of). Hermione had been very excited about it, and even more so when it worked. She was quick to remind him that he couldn’t win her affections with gifts, but he knew it was a good start.

Potter gaining some weight and looking healthy was another win in Draco’s books. Draco didn’t really realize how gaunt Potter looked until he started eating the way he was supposed to eat. Their Quidditch practices also helped put muscle on both of them, and Draco was definitely reaping the rewards of both. He forgot how sore he could get after playing Quidditch for so long. There were no more shower encounters because everyone was back at school, but that was fine.

Potter and Draco talked, they talked and talked and talked about everything. Draco was shocked and horrified by the things Harry had gone through during their seventh year. He stuttered through the stories, and sometimes it took four times as long for him to say something because he was stuttering so much. But Draco wouldn’t say a word, he waited until Harry could say it. He didn’t try to guess what Harry was going to say or fill in the sentence, he wanted to know what happened in Harry’s own words. Draco couldn’t quite believe Snape’s story, but it did all make sense. Harry talking about the resurrection stone was so heart breaking that Draco cried. He told Harry what it was like to live in that horrible house. To fear just waking up at night to use the bathroom. Nothing was safe. Harry held his hand while he talked about it. He talked about Potter showing up and the aftermath. The amount of blood— _he_ had been so angry. Draco talked about his father, and how it was difficult to think about him without wanting to scream.

Draco still went to Isaac every week—at least twice. He was still struggling in some ways, but it was like hope had bloomed in his chest. It was a Friday when he plopped down in Isaac’s office, feeling magically exhausted from all the hexes that day.

“Draco, you need to tell Harry. You can’t keep this up—you need to tell McGonagall.”

“I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.” Draco replied, his eyes closed. He dropped all his shields and protective charms when he walked into Isaac’s office because he needed a break, “And the only reason I’m this tired is because I was up all night doing that stupid essay for DADA, which I won’t get a high score in anyway because Lutz doesn’t read them.”

“You should tell Harry. He would want to know.”

Draco sighed, “I will. I will today.” Draco promised, “I just—he broke up with Ginny because he was afraid she’d get hurt.”

“He’s a different man now. If he tells me that in therapy, I will talk sense into him. I promise.”

Draco laughed, “Are you allowed to say that?”

“I don’t think so, but I promise you I will. And Draco—you know if it happens it’s not because he doesn’t care. Plus—you don’t know if that _will_ happen.”

“I know—I should just tell him.” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Tell me how it goes.”

“I’ll tell you at dinner.” Draco said standing up, grabbing his bag, “I’m going to go take a walk by the lake—try to figure out how to tell him.”

“Don’t chicken out!” Isaac called after him as Draco closed the door behind him. Draco rolled his eyes, Isaac trying to get the last word in. He made his way outside the castle. The sun was out and it was actually sort of warm. Draco rolled up his sleeves because no one was around—and he was _trying_ to get better about it.

He walked towards the lake and threw a couple of rocks. Granger had taught him how to skip rocks, and he was already much better at it than her. Not that he said that to her face, of course. He figured he’d just tell Harry straight up about how many times he was being hexed—maybe while Granger was in the room so he would have someone else in the room to help.

Pain shot through his leg and he wasn’t quite sure what had happened. He looked down in shock. It was just standing there but the pain felt like burning. Another whack on his arm had him collapsing to the ground.

“Finally got you alone, you fucking cunt.” Draco heard a voice hiss and the sound of feet. The kick to his back made his vision go white for a moment, “You Death Eater piece of shit.” That was definitely Smith. Stupid fucking _Hufflepuff_. Draco put his hands over his head and curled into himself. Another kick to his shins made Draco realize Smith wasn’t alone. He got a glimpse and there were three boys standing over him. Cornfoot, Draco recognized him from Ravenclaw and a pureblood his father didn’t like, and Ackerley. He was sort of standing back by himself, looking over his shoulder and up the hill toward the castle.

Draco didn’t reach for his wand as another curse bit his side. He was so close to being done. NEWTs were only a few weeks away. If he could just survive this, he’d be fine.

“Disgusting piece of filth giving purebloods a bad name.” Another kick to his chest. Draco couldn’t help the sharp yell of pain that time.

“He saw you _making out_ with Potter.” Smith said, pointing at Ackerley, “You get your filthy _disgusting_ hands away from him.”

Draco just covered his face. He didn’t want to look at them anymore. He didn’t want to agree with them. Another hard kick had him yelping, the burn of the hexes still not abating.

But he wouldn’t reach for his wand. He would not.

_Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid_. He kept saying it in his head over and over, not listening to whatever else they said. He tried to think of Potter, tried to think of how he felt when Potter’s hands were on him.

Someone wrenched his hands away from his face.

“No!” Draco couldn’t stop the visceral shout. Now that his face was uncovered, he had to face whatever was happening to him.

“Fucking pathetic piece of shit.” Cornfoot punched him in the face. The pain radiated everywhere as his nose broke, tears started down his face.

“Please.” Draco whispered, knowing he shouldn’t have bothered but asking anyway.

“Guys—we should stop.” Ackerley said from behind, still glancing up at the castle.

“Just one more.” Smith landed a punch to his jaw. Draco was done trying to remain silent. He practically screamed in pain. It wouldn’t matter, he was too far away from help anyway.

“I think another wouldn’t hurt.” Cornfoot said with a laugh.

A growl made them all freeze.

“I’m getting out of here.” Ackerley said, taking off at a sprint. The growl continued, coming up from the hill.

“I’m out.” Cornfoot said, hopping off Draco’s chest and sprinting toward the boat house steps that lead back to the castle. Smith stomped on Draco’s thigh one more time. It was so painful Draco felt like he might get sick as Smith ran off.

Draco was in so much pain that it felt like the _cruciatus_. His entire body hurt.

“Gotta get up.” He whispered to himself, “I gotta get up.” He said again, not quite sure who he was talking to. He tried to sit up, but pain felt like a lash. He let out a gasp, lying back down on the ground.

He couldn’t really see.

Pain radiated throughout his body and he couldn’t move, “So close.” He whispered to himself. So close to finishing school. He didn’t want it to end like this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me for the cliff hanger. I promise I'll have a new chapter up next week!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting for survival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ************CHAPTER WARNINGS PLEASE READ****************
> 
> This chapter features a relapse of self harm. Please read at your own discretion. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also I'm terribly sorry for the late update. Bit of an emergency this week, so even though this chapter was written I didn't think about updating. Thanks for your patience!

He could barely focus on his own breathing, trying to minimize the pain. If he could reach his wand he could send up sparks then hopefully someone will see him. Draco screamed when something licked his face, “Fang.” He let out a breath.

“I told ya to stop barkin’ at the merpeople!” It was an unmistakable voice Draco had made fun of for years, “They’re just gunna poke ya, cowardly mutt.”

“Go get Hagrid.” Draco whispered to the dog. The loud barking started instantly.

“What is goin’ on—Merlin’s beard! Malfoy!” Hagrid sounded horrified. Draco looked over in the direction of his voice.

“H-help.” He croaked.

“I’ll get ya to Madam Pumfrey quick.” Hagrid said, his voice sounding like he was desperately trying to remain calm, “Gunna pick ya up on three—alright? Deep breath.” Just situating his hands was enough for Draco to scream in agony.

“M-my wand—is it in my pocket?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, I see it.” Hagrid answered, and Draco sighed out of relief.

“I didn’t use it—I swear I didn’t.” Draco told him earnestly, he couldn’t really feel his left leg and he was starting to feel a bit loopy, “I promise I didn’t. Don’t expel me.”

“I can’t do that anyway.” Hagrid answered, “Now on 3. 3. 2. 1.”

The pain was like blinding white light splitting through his body. Draco could hardly get the scream out before he blacked out.

 

“This is unacceptable.” Draco could hear Madam Pumfrey but couldn’t get his eyes open to see her, “Students should not treat one another like this.”

“Harry.” He muttered. He wanted someone to hold his hand—if it didn’t hurt too much.

“He did this to you?” She sounded scandalized.

“N-no.”

He slipped back under again.

 

“ _YOU MADE HIM DEFENSELESS AND THEN TOLD THE ENTIRE SCHOOL_ ” That was undeniably Harry’s yell. Draco would recognize that tone anywhere. And he was _definitely_ mid rant. Someone had let him get on a roll before cutting him off. They had expelled Draco. McGonagall had finally done it.

“Harry.” Draco managed to say again. But consciousness was too difficult to hold on to, so he passed out again.

 

Climbing into consciousness again was difficult. He could hear a scratching of a quill.

“Mione? Did you see his hand?”

“He won’t wake up for another day Harry.” Granger’s voice was patient.

And consciousness evaded him again.

 

He felt the sun first. It warmed his legs almost a bit too much. Someone was sitting next to him—he wasn’t sure how he knew, but he could feel it. He tried to open his eyes, but for some reason they didn’t want to open. It took another minute before they slowly opened, feeling too heavy for his face.

“Madam Pumfrey!” Harry called out. Draco saw the open window and the sunlight pouring onto the bed.

“Harry.” His voice cracked with disuse.

“I’m here.” Harry said, taking his hand.

“I didn’t hex them, I didn’t.” Draco’s throat ached and he didn’t realize he was crying.

“I know you didn’t.” Harry said immediately, his green eyes piercing into his soul.

“I’m expelled.” Felt like his heart was out of his chest. His entire future was gone, just like that.

“No, you’re not.” Madam Pumfrey said immediately. She had a few potions in her hands, “Take this purple one first, don’t argue with me. Then take this one—then the last. And then you have to eat.” She instructed, uncorking the first bottle. Draco’s hands and arms felt stiff as he held it up. When he tried to take the bottle, his fingers wouldn’t quite close right, “It’s ok, this happens after the trauma you received in your arms. Mr. Potter, will you help him take his potions.”

“Yes ma’am.” Harry took the potions from her.

“How am I not expelled?”

“Ackerley lasted eight hours before he spilled everything.” Harry explained, easing the purple potion to his lips. It tasted horrid, but Draco finished it. He’d had it before—Snape had given it to him once after Voldemort had—after he had—but it didn’t matter now. He drank the other two without complaint, but he was feeling a bit queasy by the end of it.

“Eat.” Pumfrey instructed, putting a tray of food in front of him. It was pasta and other mushy things, but Draco wasn’t hungry, “I know food looks gross, but eat.”

“I heard you yelling at someone.” Draco said to Harry.

“There’s a list of us.” Pumfrey said smartly, glaring at Harry who only glared right back.

“There’s a list of people who deserved to be yelled at.” Potter replied primly.

“They should know not to let you get on a roll.” Draco said, his eyes too heavy for a moment so he let them close for a bit too long and opened them again.

Potter snorted, is piercing green eyes making the pain go away better than any potion, “Well, if anyone knows how to piss me off.”

“Don’t flatter me when I can’t do anything about it.” Potter laughed at that, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Don’t do that to me again, alright?”

“I will consciously try not to.” Draco replied. Harry kissed his fingers.

“Uh—some news. The entire school knows were dating—and the Prophet found out yesterday.”

“Potter—I was knocked out. How the hell did that happen?”

“He gave Smith the dressing down he deserved.” Madam Pumfrey said as she removed the bandages on his legs, smiling a bit, “Like I said—there is a list of us.”

Harry frowned, “I wouldn’t put you on the same list as Smith—or Cornfoot.”

“He yelled at Smith at lunch two days ago.” Madam Pumfrey told Draco, “I don’t think I’ve seen someone so thoroughly chastised since Dumbledore talked to the minister about You-know-who coming back. Of course, didn’t work on him. Didn’t work on Smith either.” She was putting some sort of paste on Draco’s wounds.

“What happened to me? How long was I out?” Draco asked.

“Four days.” Harry answered.

“And you have a litany of injuries. Several ribs were severely cracked, you had a punctured lung. Your nose was completely shattered and your right cheek bone. Severe bruising on your chest and back, then the two burning hexes. Then your left femur was snapped in two, but that should be healed already.” Draco wasn’t quite sure why tears came to his eyes, but Potter was there immediately.

“You’re alright.” Harry whispered to him.

“How many more scars?” Draco asked.

“A few on your chest from the burn hex, and a few on your leg from the same hex.” Madam Pumfrey answered.

“And your face looks ridiculous, but the swelling will go down.” Harry said, his eyes dancing as he teased him. That made the knot in his chest loosen a bit.

“You’re not supposed to say I look ridiculous.” Draco said with a pout.

“You look roguishly handsome with your face swollen up three sizes.”

“Thank you.” Draco whispered, and Harry leaned down to kiss the side of his jaw that wasn’t injured.

“Hermione and Luna are both taking notes for you in the classes you’re missing.”

“Not you?”

“Mine were deemed illegible”

“Your script does look like a drunken toddler.” Harry laughed.

“You sound more like yourself.” Harry poked his one hand, “I’m very glad to see you awake.”

“What happened to Smith, Cornfoot and Ackerley?”

“They are allowed to sit for their NEWTs, but not allowed back to Hogwarts until then. All three are pending what happens after you talk to McGonagall.”

“And only when you’re feeling well enough.” Pumfrey said.

“When can I go back to my room?” Draco asked her.

“Tomorrow, Mr. Malfoy.”

 

Being in bed all day when you can’t move isn’t as fun as it might sound. He thought he would enjoy the rest, but it was just uncomfortable. Granger and Luna came by with his notes after classes, so he got to go over the work he had missed. It was Thursday, so he had missed quite a few days of classes. And Pumfrey insisted he take off Friday as well.

He was sort of glad he wasn’t forced to go back to classes on Friday. His body ached all over the place. He would have been more focused on trying to sit down and not be in pain than listening to any of the professors.

“How are you doing?” Isaac came at lunch time on Thursday.

“I’ve been better.” Draco said honestly, “It’s—everything is a bit overwhelming. I thought for sure I was going to get expelled.” Isaac let out a breath.

“I would have defended you, you know, if you had defended yourself. I know Harry would have too—Hermione and Luna.” Isaac nearly whispered the words.

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Draco said determinedly, “You know McGonagall. She said getting into trouble _once_. I’ve flirted with the line too many times.”

“You don’t know that Draco—I’m sorry you felt like there was no other choice.” Isaac touched one of his bandages, “Promise me next time you will fight back. You don’t deserve this.”

“I only have a few weeks left of school anyway.” Draco replied. He didn’t regret his decision not to fight at all. Isaac was being ridiculous. He almost got expelled and he didn’t fight back, let alone if he did.

“Has McGonagall been in to see you yet?”

“No.” Draco frowned.

“She will be.” Isaac said.

“What can she have to say?”

“I’ll let her say it.” Isaac said a bit ominously.

“Ok.” Draco let out a breath, “Well hand me my lunch. I’m still a growing boy.”

“And you’re recovering.” Isaac pushed the floating tray toward him, “I expect you to eat all of it.”

Harry sat with him after classes, through dinner and only left when Madam Pumfrey told him to get lost. Draco knew Harry would have trouble sleeping without him, so felt a bit bad for not being there for him all week. If Draco was being honest with himself, he had more than a bit of trouble getting to sleep himself.

 

“You alright, Mr. Malfoy?” Madam Pumfrey asked him in Friday morning.

“Yes.” He said excitedly, “I’m allowed to go back to my room today.” He kept hoping if he said it, then he would feel excited. He felt a bit odd, like he wasn’t in his own body. It was a bit of brain fog and disassociation. He hadn’t felt like this in months, so it was uncomfortable to feel again. He wasn’t sure why he felt like it at all. Sure he had been beaten up, but he wasn’t being expelled. Harry was going to come see him during second period since he had it free.

Madam Pumfrey went over his wounds. They were still healing, but he wouldn’t be confined to the infirmary. She gave strict instructions to be back every few hours for medication and if anything even so much as twinged, he needed to come back. It was a quiet walk back to the Slytherin dungeons, as everyone had gone to first period class.

He pushed open the door to his rooms and was surprised to find a pile of unopened letters in the middle. The Prophet article outing the two of them was lying on the pile.

_Boy Who Lives ensnared by Death Eater?_

_Death Eater using Imperius on Harry Potter? More on page 12_

_Evil Afoot? Malfoy strikes back with plot to take down Harry Potter_

The red letters started to shake. His presence finally tipped off.

“ _How DARE YOU? You piece of scum.”_

_“UTTER FILTH! HE SAVED THE WORLD!”_  As the letters tore themselves open in their eagerness to join others.

“ _DISGUSTING HUMAN!”_

_“DEATH EATER.”_

Draco wasn’t really sure what possessed him, but he opened one of the letters lying on the ground.

_Death Eater,_

_How dare you date Harry Potter. He saved the wizarding world and deserves some peace. You, on the other hand, deserve nothing like it. You deserve to suffer from now until the day you die._

He tossed it aside without finishing it and opened another.

_Malfoy Scum,_

_The Boy Who Lived is better off without you. He will constantly be looking out for you, and he deserves someone who isn’t making him stoop low. You are scum on his shoes._

Draco dropped the letter.

Worthless.

_Fuckin good for something at least_. His voice filled Draco’s head.

He thought he might get sick.

Draco got up but the stupid Howlers kept following him. He tripped over the edge of carpet but managed to keep himself from falling by grabbing the edge of his bed. He collapsed to his knees and crawled around the bed, trying to hide from the screaming.

_“HOW DARE YOU IMPERIUS HARRY POTTER. YOU ARE NOT WORTH THE AIR YOU BREATHE.”_

Worthless. Worthless.

Draco’s chest felt too tight and he wanted to climb out of his skin. He wanted to leave all of this behind. Why did he do any of it?

The blade he had used was in the nightside table, like it always was. The special place he kept it in and didn’t throw away as Isaac suggested. He managed to grab it from his position on the floor and he pulled up his sleeves. He wanted that _stupid_ scull to be destroyed. He didn’t want to feel like he was going to throw up anymore.

The pain made his eyes close, he pinched them tight as his breath increased. His breathing was shallow as he felt the warmth of his own blood drip down his wrist.

When he opened his eyes he nearly screamed when he saw his arm.

What would Isaac think? All the hard work he had put in? All the time he had spent? And what about Harry? He had disappointed both of them.

“N-no!” Draco cried out.

_“You cretin!”_ More letters yelled.

Draco just cried. He pulled his legs up to his chest and sobbed into his knees. He put his arms over his head even though it hurt. The letters were _right_. Potter didn’t deserve to be burdened by him. He deserved to be free of all of this hate.

“Draco?” Harry’s voice called out. There were _still_ letters screaming at Draco. Draco was on the floor on opposite side of the bed from the door, so he was hoping Harry wouldn’t see him. The yelling letters stopped abruptly, “Draco?” Potter’s voice was softer, but still far away. Draco just kept his head down, trying not to sniffle. It was a vain hope. Draco felt, rather than saw, Potter walk around the bed. He could feel his eyes staring at him, “Draco.” He sounded broken.

“I’m _sorry_.” Draco said before he could help it. Draco turned his head away from Potter and pushed his back into the bed as hard as he could.

“We’re going to go see Isaac right now.” Harry said strongly, he was squatting in front of him.

“No!” Draco yelled, trying to push away from him. He covered his face with his arms again. Harry grabbed his left arm like he was going for the snitch, but his grip was light.

“You don’t deserve any of this Draco.” Harry’s tone was calm but unwavering. His finger ran along the cut on his arm. It almost made Draco want to believe him, “And we’re going to go to Isaac right now.”

“B-but I messed up.” Draco waved his bleeding arm. He couldn’t really see past the tears in his eyes. But his heart hurt from the disappointment in himself. It ached and his stomach flipped over. He just wanted to go under the covers and never come out. _I’m not worth this_. He thought to himself.

“ _Yes, you are_.” Harry said, his voice wobbling. Draco must have said the last sentence out loud. Harry placed a gentle kiss on his fingers, “Come on.” Harry pulled him up gently, guiding him out the door and toward Isaac’s office. By some grace, they managed not to run into a single person throughout the journey to his office.

“Draco.” Isaac was by his side instantly, “Harry sent me the patronus, I got some dittany for you.”

“I’m sorry. I know you hate me, I’m so sorry.” Draco sobbed.

“I don’t hate you Draco.” Isaac said, ushering him to the couch. He placed a few drops in the cut on Draco’s arm, it hissed as the wound scabbed over.

“But you have to—look at what I did!” Draco practically yelled.

“Draco, relapsing can happen. We discussed it—we talked about it the last time it happened.” Isaac told him softly.

“I know—but I was feeling so much better. I didn’t want to hurt myself. And now I feel like I’m starting all over again.”

“It feels like it now, but you’re not.” Isaac assured him, “Your foundation is much stronger. You are going to bounce back that much quicker. Draco, when you first came into this office you flinched at nearly every sound and tried to only tell me the secrets everyone knows. But now you’re talking so much more, you’re so willing to put the work in. This one moment does _not_ set back your recovery to the beginning.”

Draco frowned, not sure if he could believe it.

“This is why I like you.” Harry grabbed Draco’s left arm, running his fingers over the scars.

“You _like_ this?” Draco asked, hysterical. Isaac had an eyebrow raised.

“Not that you cut yourself.” Harry clarified quickly, “I died and I got to choose to come back. But my friends didn’t—Remus, Tonks- F-Fred-” Harry’s voice caught in his throat, “They were better people than I am—they didn’t do the terrible things I did. They deserved the chance that I got—it’s not fair. The guilt of that—sometimes I can’t breathe under the weight of it.” Potter rubbed the scars again, “I _know_ you understand guilt. You don’t make me feel guilty for not being happy. And you _wait_ when I start stuttering for me to finish my sentences. You don’t try to make it feel better, or go away. You _understand_ so much, you are more kind than anyone gives you credit for. I wish people could see it. I wish people could know you like I do. You’re thoughtful and patient—and _funny_. I didn’t really know that until this year. You are an amazing person. I’m just sorry I didn’t see it until this year.”  

“Draco you have so much support around you.” Isaac said, a small smile on his own face, “Don’t be afraid to reach out, don’t be afraid to stumble—both of you. You have friends that want to be there for you when you feel worthless, or you feel all that guilt crushing in on you. Luna, Hermione—hell, even Lindsey. She just wrote to me about the two of you together, she saw it in the paper. And she wants both of you to visit.”

“I want to visit her.” Draco whispered. Harry had entwined his fingers in Draco’s left hand, gently rubbing his left arm with the other hand. His fingers went around the cut gingerly, “But I didn’t feel—cutting didn’t feel like it did before.” Draco confessed, “Before it made me feel better—this didn’t make me feel better at all. I don’t want to say I’ll never do it again—not because I _want_ to do it again, but because I don’t know the future. But this time it just made me feel even more awful.”

“Then try to remember this feeling too.” Isaac told him, “You are loved, you are wanted—and you are absolutely not worthless.”

Draco smiled through tears and leaned into Harry’s shoulder, “I don’t know how I forgot.” Harry laughed, kissing his head and wrapping his arm around Draco to hold him close.

They hung out in Isaac’s office the rest of the day. Isaac wrote a note excusing Harry from class. No one was really sure if he was allowed to do that, but none of the professors argued with him. Draco had a comfortable spot lying back against Harry’s chest, between his legs. They played exploding snap for hours, laughing. Draco could feel his entire body relax.

“Harry, can I talk to Draco for a few minutes alone before we go to dinner?” Isaac asked.

“Yes, of course.” Harry kissed Draco’s forehead, “Be good.”

“Yes mum.” Draco said with a roll of his eyes. Harry pulled his legs from out behind Draco and hopped over the couch with ease. He grabbed his school bag and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

“How are you feeling?”

Draco let out a breath, “I don’t think before I was really facing the reality of being pummeled, it all sort of hit me at once—as well as the reality of everyone knowing I’m dating Potter.” He rolled down his sleeves, “I think there’s always going to be a part of me that believes I deserve it, but I want to keep the people around that remind me that I don’t.”

Issac smiled, “Are you happy?”

“Getting that way.” Draco said honestly.  

“And you’re working on being healthy, so don’t worry about the rest. No matter who Harry dated, the paper was going to both hate and love. Worry about how Harry feels, how _you_ feel. The rest will come into place.”

Draco grinned, “Easier said than done.”

“Yes, of course. But whenever you recognize yourself going into that spiral of feeling like you don’t _deserve_ Harry—remember that he thinks you deserve him. I might be wrong, but I don’t think that boy is going anywhere Draco Malfoy.” Isaac’s eyes sparkled as he smiled.

Draco laughed, “I think you might be right.”  

The two stood up and walked out the door. Potter was sitting on one of the couches, waiting for them. Potter smiled as he came out, standing up. It was strange how quickly the world could melt away when Harry’s green eyes looked into his.

“Ugh—you both will be unbearable to be around if you stare at each other like that.” Isaac declared.

Potter and Draco both laughed, “Oh shut it.” Draco huffed, but grabbed Harry’s hand.

“Want to sit at Gryffindor?”

“No, I’ll sit with my house.”

“Draco, we’ve just been outed to the whole school. I don’t want us to sit alone.” The important part of the implied statement was that Harry was willing to sit with Slytherin, and he had in the past. But it was always a bit awkward. Draco didn’t really have any friends left in Slytherin house. He was protective of the first years, and they did like him, but that was about it.

“Good point. Gryffindor it is.” Draco let out a breath as they walked toward the Great Hall.

They walked into the Great Hall and the loud cacophony of student chatter died instantly. Nearly every set of eyeballs in the room was staring at the two of them, and their entwined hands.

“See you after.” Isaac whispered, walking toward the faculty table. Draco held Harry’s hand tightly as they walked toward Gryffindor table. Harry walked with his chin up, glaring at anyone that glared at them.

“Draco, how are you feeling?” Hermione asked as Draco sat down. The question sounded thunderous since the entire hall was silent, with the exception of a few whispers.

“Feeling better Hermione, thank you.” He had never used her first name before, but now was a good a time to start as any.

The entire hall broke out in whispers. Draco tried not to, but his face heat up as he turned red. Harry took his hand, squeezing it under the table.

“Everyone please settle down.” McGonagall was standing up by the podium, “Since we’re _all_ back together. I would like to discuss an issue with you all. As you already may know, three of our students will not be joining us the rest of the year. This is because they took it upon themselves to harm another student.” Draco could feel eyes glaring at him, “Now make no mistake when I say that this behavior will _not_ be tolerated at Hogwarts.

“This year I have been a proponent of interhouse unity. The sorting hat and myself both urged everyone in the beginning of the year to mend fences and to reach out to the person next to you. I have watched over the year as more study groups became those of mixed houses, and even a few couples. I believe _every_ student should be given the opportunity to excel. And I do mean _each and every_ student.”

“Which is why I would like to be the first one to apologize. I’ve preached all year about forgiveness, and yet there is one student in this room that I did not offer this same starting point. It is no excuse, but in my mind, I was protecting other students. It did not occur to me to think of the horrors he had gone through.” Draco didn’t really think he could breathe. His face was red and he was staring at McGonagall. Was this a dream? He was reading too far into this. This speech was definitely _not_ about him.

“So, I am giving a very public apology to Draco Malfoy.” The whispers started immediately, but a defiant raise of McGonagall’s eyebrow had everyone silent again. Her eyes found his instantly, “I am very sorry for how I have treated you. By telling everyone about how I banned you from using your wand, I opened you up to all sorts of attacks. To hear that the barrage of hexes was a _daily_ assault was horrifying, but to hear that you would have never approached me about the topic was even worse. I understand why you didn’t come to me for help, or to rectify the situation. I sat with you in my office in the beginning of the year and expressed that I wish I had done more to help you, to teach you, and I failed you again.”

“It was another student who reminded me that Hogwarts is supposed to be a refuge. It is supposed to shelter those who are weak and give them time to heal, time to learn. This is a place of second chances. We haven’t been that place in some time, but we will endeavor to become that place again. Our differences can bring us together, rather than keep us apart. So I want to thank Draco Malfoy for reminding me of that, and for that I award him one hundred points.” The Slytherin Table burst into thunderous applause immediately, cheering loudly and throwing their hats in the air. Harry, Hermione and Luna also added their own applause as Harry kissed his head—Hagrid was also whistling at the front table and smiling at Draco, which Draco couldn’t believe. Draco felt like he couldn’t breathe and that his face was on fire. The one hundred points put Slytherin in a significant lead with only two weeks of classes left to go.

“I can’t breathe.” Draco whispered. His stomach was sort of doing summersaults and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He wanted to crawl under the table and never look at anyone ever again.

“Enjoy the moment.” Harry said with a laugh, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. Draco smiled to himself a bit, reaching his hand out to grab Harry’s. Food appeared on the table, and thankfully everyone moved on to more pleasant things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I love reading your comments :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proving everyone wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this!

The announcement from McGonagall and Harry’s touch must have given Gryffindors permission to talk to him. Draco hadn’t talked to so many Gryffindor in his life. His face was still red after McGonagall’s speech as he ate dinner. They all chattered around him about classes, asking him to pass things instead of reaching over him like he wasn’t there. Draco couldn’t help it, but he was pretty sure he had a goofy grin on his face the whole dinner.

“You alright?” Harry asked.

“Yes. Brilliant.” Draco answered.

After dinner, Potter had to go back to his room to grab some homework before coming over so Draco walked back to the common room by himself. But before he could leave, he was stopped.

“Mr. Malfoy.” McGonagall called to him. Draco stiffened and turned around, “Would come with me to my office, please.”

“Yes Professor.” Draco followed her to her office in relative silence.

“Russian Blue.” She said to the door. It leapt aside and the two of them walked into her office. Draco sat down in the chair opposite her desk, pulling a bit at his sleeve, “Take a biscuit Mr. Malfoy.” She offered small round biscuits on the tray. Even though Draco had just eaten, he took one off the tray. He was surprised when she plopped down in the chair next to him rather than at her desk, “I realize my apology downstairs was a bit—well—a bit Gryffindor of me. But I do feel like my grievance caused for a grandiose apology.”

“Yes Professor.” Draco frowned, taking a bit of his biscuit.

“I wanted to also apologize now for my actions. Harry was very—well, he gave me the riot act. Which I deserved.”

“Are you the one he was yelling at in the infirmary?” Draco asked.

“One of them.” She confirmed.

“I heard him yelling at some point—you have to cut him off early or he gets on a roll.” Draco advised.

“I try not to make him angry.” She admitted with a grin, “but I find he usually shuts up if there is tea involved. But this was the first time he was angry with me, and not some other injustice.”

“I’ll admit it’s nice to watch him get mad at someone else.” He was startled by McGonagall’s loud laughter.

“How are you recovering?”

“Still a bit sore, but otherwise alright.” Draco said.

“Now, the three boys involved will not be coming back to school for the rest of the year. But some parts of this deliberation are dependent on your input. One, if you’d like to press charges. I will contact the auror office immediately. And if any of them give you grief for your name, I have taught most of the aurors at some point so I am not afraid to call in a few favors.”

“No—that’s alright. I—I didn’t really expect anything to happen to them.” Draco looked down at his biscuit. The teapot whistled and McGonagall poured them both a cup of tea. They must have been charmed, because the sugar bowl and the milk cup poured in the perfect amount.

“I think it is not unreasonable for you to press charges. You were severely beaten. You are very lucky Madam Pumfrey is on staff and Hagrid found you so quickly.”

“Fang found me—Hagrid brought me up.” Draco corrected.

“Yes, but the question still stands.”

Draco felt like he did want those fuckers to pay for what they did to him. His answer to call the aurors was on the tip of his tongue when he thought about the backlash.

_Death Eater sues Heroes._ The headline popped into his head like a neon sign.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Draco said with a frown.

“I assure you, the aurors will not—

“It’s more about the press, to be honest.” Draco fidgeted a bit, “And I—well—I don’t really blame them for what they did. My family has been awful to Cornfoot’s family, for him being a pureblood and not on the side of the Dark Lord. My father was—” Draco’s throat caught, “I just don’t blame him. They all did something awful, but I’m quite pleased with the punishment now. I won’t press charges.”

“You can change your mind if you wish, just let me know.” McGonagall told him.

“Thank you, but I won’t.” Draco said solidly.

“And if you need anything from me, please do not be afraid to ask.”

Draco smiled into his tea cup, “I will Professor.”

“You have plans for after graduation?”

“I do.” Draco warmed down to his toes. He did have a _plan_. And one that he _wanted_ , “I talked to George Weasley about the bracelets and jewelry I’ve been working on with Professor Flitwick. He wants me to sell my stuff there—maybe work there if I’m good.” Draco blushed a bit.

“Hm.” McGonagall looked more than a bit confused.

“I have been awful to all the Weasleys for many years. But I’m starting to come around. Harry’s helping, obviously.” Draco defended himself.

“For being a Slytherin, you never take the path of least resistance.” McGonagall said.

“Being a Slytherin means I see opportunity and I put my soul into it.” Draco bit back a breath, but then plowed forward, “Being a Slytherin isn’t a bad thing, Professor. It doesn’t mean we’re inherently selfish or willing to cut people out of our lives that don’t add value. I have been extremely selfish, and more than willing to throw people under the Knight Bus. But not because I’m a Slytherin, but because that’s how I was raised. I didn’t realize it until later. But I think if you stop _expecting_ Slytherins to turn out that way, I think you’ll find we will surprise you.”

McGonagall looked at him like a puzzle she hadn’t figured out yet, “You are quite right, Mr. Malfoy. Slytherin is an honorable house, and though it is not for the reasons your father thinks it is, it is no less honorable.”

“Wormtail always claimed Gryffindors were brave enough to do what was necessary—you can always twist honorable things into dishonorable actions if you try hard enough.”

“Quite right, Mr. Malfoy.” Dumbledore’s voice startled Draco so much his tea spilled on his lap.

“S-Sir.” Draco stared up at his portrait.

“It seems prejudice against muggles and muggle borns is only one type of prejudice.” Dumbledore said.

“Yes, I get the point Albus.” McGonagall said with a sigh, but there was a smile on her face, “I’m sure you want to go back to your house.”

“Please.” Draco put the cup down, he stared at up Dumbledore’s portrait, “I know I don’t really deserve to say this—but I am sorry for my part on the tower.”

“I never blamed you for a moment Draco.” Dumbledore said, which sort of stung. It shouldn’t have, because Draco didn’t want to be on Voldemort’s side. And he only did it for his family. But it got to the core of the matter that Dumbledore never took him seriously. Never thought well of him.

“But I will never forgive you for what you did to Harry. I am not sure how he still respects you.” Draco blurted the last part out.

Dumbledore’s face turned down, his eyes looked like he just might cry, “I do not know why he does either.”

“Goodnight Professors.” Draco turned from the room and left before anyone could stop him. His chest was heaving a bit as he walked into the hallway. He pressed his back against the castle wall and pressed his hand to his chest.

_No Draco. It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now_.

One of the worst moments in his life. But he was forgiven, just like that—in a moment. Draco kept his eyes open, not wanting to close them and see Dumbledore’s staring back at him. He wasn’t quite sure if he was upset or not, but it helped to just stand there for a few moments. When he felt like he was ready, he pushed up off the wall and walked to Slytherin House.

 When he opened the door, there was loud cheering and whoops of joy.

“Way to go mate!” A seventh year Draco barely recognized said with a smile.

“Way to stick it to McGonagall!” Another shouted.

“Thank you.” Draco was bright red.

“Who would have thought getting beaten up would be beneficial?”

“Thomas!” Someone hit the guy who said the previous sentence.

“What? Sorry?” Thomas glared at the girl who hit him.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Draco said honestly, “I’ve been told multiple times I should have defended myself.”

“Hey.” Potter slipped up next to him, “Want a cookie?”

“You went to the kitchens?” Draco asked.

“Yes, brought some food to celebrate your points.” Harry pointed at some of the common room tables that were filled with food.

“We helped!” A first year chimed in, a large grin on his face as he stood on the couch to get a high enough vantage point to see Draco over the throng of students.

“Yeah! We tickled a pear!” The first year next to the original one said with a giggle. Draco never remembered being that little.

Someone slapped Draco’s shoulder and he cringed in surprise, pulling away quickly, “Shit, sorry. I forgot you don’t like to be touched. Nice job standing up to McGonagall.” A sixth year Slytherin whom Draco believed was named Richard said.

“Y-you know that I don’t like to be touched?” Draco asked, he hoped he didn’t say it loud enough that no one could hear.

“Yeah—we all do.” Maybe Richard said.

“Richard!” A fifth year hissed, thank Merlin he was right about the name, “We just wanted to make sure no one upset you.”

“Yeah! Sometimes I push past people in the hallway real fast so you can get through!” The first year standing on the couch claimed.

Draco stared out a bit at the twenty or so students staring back at him, not quite believing what he was hearing, “I-I didn’t know.”

“That was sort of the point.” A seventh year turned an eye to Richard.

“Sorry Pollo.” Richard said with a blush.

“Well, let’s eat some snacks.” Potter said with a clap of his hands. Draco let out a breath, turning to him with a small smile. He was just grateful the attention was now off of him.

The students all went around the snack table, diving in. Draco intended to wait until everyone had stopped mobbing the pile.

“Wait—let Draco through! He needs snacks.” The first year cried out.

“Oh, right.” Another one said, stepping aside. Draco walked forward and grabbed a pumpkin pasty before sitting in the corner the couch. Potter plopped down next to him.

“Thank you for getting food.” Draco said with a small blush.

“You’re welcome.” Harry answered.

“How come you can touch him?” One first year asked as he pointed at Harry.

“Peter!” A second year Draco thought was named Matilda slapped the first’s hand. Draco was sort of amazed how little people’s names he knew. How did he not know anyone’s names?

“Cause I’m his boyfriend.” Harry answered.

Draco choked a bit on his pastry, covering it up quickly. He hadn’t heard it announced like that yet. It was—it made him feel like a fucking Hufflepuff being asked to Hogsmeade. He wanted to laugh it made him so fucking happy.

“Oh.” Peter sounded disappointed, “I thought it was because you had special powers or something because you’re the Chosen One.”

Harry smiled kindly, “No, I started just like you Peter. Everyone has to start somewhere.” Peter blushed but looked pleased at the news, turning to his cupcake.

“Did you really kill a basilisk second year?” Matilda asked.

“Yeah, it was in the Chamber of Secrets, Salazar made it a secret place for Slytherin students.”

“I bet he made it dark and scary.” Peter said with a frown, “Why did he do that? I don’t like it.”

Draco laughed, “Such a good question. I feel like I’m always adding cushioning charms to these couches.”

“Gryffindor has great couches.” Harry said wistfully.

“I bet.” Matilda frowned. She was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed on the carpet, “Of course Slytherin doesn’t get any comfy stuff—we’re supposed to be cold and mean.”

“No—you’re supposed to be cunning and think outside the box.” Potter said strongly, “Maybe a certain disregard for the rules.” Harry winked at Draco at it made his insides just melt a little. Draco was sure Harry would have done fine in Slytherin, he could manipulate Draco so easily.

Potter snuggled up in Draco’s grasp as they hung out in the common room. His head was leaning back against Draco’s chest, his legs stretched out. Draco sort of liked the extra barrier, and the pressure against his chest. It felt comforting. The common room slowly got drained out, so Draco took the opportunity to head to bed. No one really blinked an eye when Harry followed him to the steps.

“What took you so long to get back? I didn’t think I’d beat you.” Harry said when the door was closed.

“I talked to McGonagall.”

“How’d it go?” Harry asked, taking Draco’s wrist and squeezing it a bit.

“Weird—she still assumes the worst of Slytherins, but at least she knows now it’s prejudice.” Draco pulled Harry closer to him. Harry easily acquiesced, sliding his hand under Draco’s pajama shirt.

“Tomorrow’s a new day.” Harry whispered into Draco’s jaw before kissing the part not bruised.

“And it’s Saturday—I have to catch up on so much studying.” Draco frowned.

“I promise I won’t distract you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Draco teased with a smile.

“I promise I will limit my amount of distracting.” Harry smiled as he pressed his lips against Draco. Draco laughed into the kiss, “Now get some sleep. You need to recover.”

“Harry?”

“Hm.” Harry looked up at him.

“We kinda talked about this but—um—I know I said I wanted to bottom first but—can I fuck you?”

Harry squeezed his arse a bit before he answered, “Yes.”

“I know I said I wanted to first but I just—

“It’s ok.” Harry said, kissing him, “I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Draco, I’d love for you to fuck me.” Harry’s lips were by his ears and Draco shivered.

“Yeah ok.” Draco met his lips that instant. Though he had been tired as he crawled into bed, his heart was pounding a bit as he kissed Harry a bit desperately.

“You sure you feel up to this?” Harry asked

“What?”

“Your injury.” Harry touched the bandage lightly.

“Yes—I feel great.” Draco assured him, “Well—not great. But well enough for this.” Draco maneuvered Harry so that he was beneath him. After weeks of learning more about Harry’s body, Draco knew how to touch him. Harry’s nipples weren’t that sensitive, but that was alright because there was a spot on his ribs that made him twist. Draco made his way down Harry’s body, mapping out places Harry liked best.

Draco kissed the circular scar on his chest. It looked a bit horrible, still a bit red like it hadn’t finished healing quite yet. There were parts of the scar Harry could feel, and other parts that were completely numb. He sat between Harry’s legs, pushing them up as he settled between them.

The lube wasn’t too far away, they probably should buy a new bottle soon. They both tended to over use, but they both figured it was better than underutilizing the lube. Draco slicked up his finger before slipping it inside Harry. It was as erotic as the first time Draco had fingered Harry—maybe even more so because he actually knew what he was doing this time around. It took him a second to find Harry’s prostate, curling his finger along the spot. Draco kept his nails short and trimmed so nothing untoward happened during sex. He was a bit concerned Harry would need help in this regard, but the Gryffindor was constantly picking at his nails when he was nervous.

“Draco.” Harry’s moan went straight to his cock. Draco’s own cock ached, but he didn’t really want to think about it at the moment. He wanted Harry to feel good. The one finger slipped in and out of Harry with ease, but he made sure to keep nudging his prostate. Harry’s legs flopped open, and Draco loved how easy it was to see _everything_. They would eventually have a conversation about grooming. Harry was a bit harry; and Draco while didn’t mind, some trimming would be much appreciated _._ He wanted to see _more_. It was still Harry’s body, but Draco couldn’t help but wonder what some trimming would do. Draco ran his fingers up Harry’s thigh, rubbing his thumb in small circles.

Draco hoped he could look like Harry during sex. The way he exposed himself, how relaxed he looked. Draco worried he’d never be able to spread his legs out like Harry had. He wasn’t even sure if Harry wanted that, but he figured that he liked it so much that Harry was bound to like it too. Draco pushed another finger inside of Harry. Harry seemed to like slower strokes rather than short fast ones. Working him open slowly, Draco listened for every little moan and gasp.

“ _Please_.” Harry groaned, “Go ahead.”

“No—I’m going to use three fingers before fucking you.” Draco said, his voice breathless.

“I’ll be alright, _please_ Draco.” Harry’s green eyes met his and went through him like lightening. Draco’s body curled in pleasure.

“Maybe once we know more—I just—I don’t want to hurt you on the first time.” Draco confessed. Harry’s eyes softened and looked a little less hazed.

“Yeah ok. But I trust you Draco.” Harry grabbed the hand that wasn’t currently inside him, weaving their fingers together. Draco closed his eyes, willing the emotion out of his throat to go away. When it didn’t, he smiled and kissed Harry until it did. His fingers twisted inside Harry again, pushing three fingers in this time. Harry stiffened at first, his face scrunched up a bit as he adjusted. They had done this before and Harry always enjoyed it after a bit—it just took a minute.

“You look gorgeous like this Harry.” Draco whispered, hardly believing he was speaking, “I love watching my fingers sink into you, fucking love watching your cock twitch—just like that.”

“Fucking hell” Harry moaned, _“Please_. Draco. I’m ready. I’m so fucking ready for you.”

“Y-yeah.” Draco stuttered. His own arousal that he had been half ignoring as he watched Harry get off flared up, making him ache down to his toes. He slicked his own cock but had to grip the base tightly to keep from shooting off immediately—he hadn’t realized how close he was. He moved up closer to Harry, leaning over him and kissing him a bit to distract.

“Draco—fuck me.” Harry groaned.

“Ok.” Draco whispered. He was shaking a bit as he sat back on his knees. He stared for a minute at Harry before grasping his own cock. There was only a little resistance as he pushed inside. Draco gripped Harry’s thigh as he slowly pushed in. It was tight and unbearably hot, but Draco was so anxious about Harry that he was a bit worried he would go soft.

“Draco?” Harry whispered when Draco was finally seated inside of him. Draco looked up from where they were pushed together to his face. Harry’s eyes were brilliant, staring at him like the world stopped spinning around them. He grabbed both of Draco’s hands, pulling Draco down so they were pressed together chest to chest. Potter kissed him like Draco was a glass of water on a hot day. He enveloped Draco with his arms, holding him close, “You ok?”

“What? Yes?” Draco frowned, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Draco, your cock feels like fucking heaven.”

Draco snorted, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Harry smiled, bumping his nose along Draco’s chin, “You can move, you know.”

“I promise if I come before you that I’ll blow you after.” Draco let out in a rush.

Potter of course laughed, because he’s a Gryffindor, “Please fuck me—you fingered me until I nearly came like three times—I’m going to get off quick.” Harry promised.

“Yeah.” Draco whispered. He kissed Harry’s jaw, adding a bit of teeth as he slid out and pushed back inside. Draco squeezed Harry’s arm so tightly it probably hurt because it felt so _fucking_ incredible, “Holy shit.” Draco groaned into Harry’s collar bone. He started a slow rhythm, trying to get his bearings. Harry moaned, wrapping his legs around Draco’s wait, “Wait! _Ow_.” Draco hissed, moving Harry’s leg off his waist.

“Sorry!” Harry frowned, “Fucking hell—I forgot your injured.”

“Why don’t we do—this?” Draco moved Harry’s leg up onto his shoulder, the other still around his waist. It felt a bit awkward, but it least his leg wasn’t against Draco’s ribs.

“I dunno.” Harry frowned, but his face changed as Draco pushed inside of him, “ _Do that again_.” Harry demanded, grasping at Draco’s arm. From then Draco didn’t stop. He kept an even pace, dragging in and out of Harry, “ _Jesus fucking Christ_.” Harry moaned. Draco couldn’t help but feel pleasure at making Harry feel so good.

“Touch yourself Harry.” Draco whimpered, trying not to come as he continued to thrust. He didn’t think he had the coordination to do it himself. Harry reached down, palming his cock roughly before stroking it in time with Draco’s thrusts.

“I-Draco I’m so close.” His voice was thin as he pushed himself back on Draco’s cock. His back arched up, “ _Harder_.” Draco complied easily. The nerves had fallen behind and he let his inhibitions go as he thrust. Harry’s answering groan was so loud Draco could feel the vibrations of it. Sweat dripped down his side burns, his hair was sticking to his face as he hoped Harry would come in the next fifteen seconds because he didn’t think he could stop it now. Pleasure curled down deep in his toes as it tingled throughout his body, his balls were drawn up tight as he tried to fight it off.

Harry’s hand was a blur on his cock, his other hand gripping Draco’s shoulder tightly. It hurt a bit, but Draco felt like the pain kept him from coming. A string of curse words and then a sharp gasp signaled Harry had met his end. The thought of knowing he could finally come pushed Draco over the edge. The pleasure was nearly painful it felt so delicious as it sparked through him. He barely remembered collapsing on top of Harry as aftershocks trembled through him.

Draco’s head was on Harry’s chest, turned to the side as he just let himself breathe. Harry’s hand was in Draco’s hair, his palm at the nape of his neck. Draco just let himself breathe.

_He had sex_.

He had always thought he would freak out, but he wasn’t at all. He simply felt too content to be freaking out. Feeling a bit sticky, he reached over to grab his wand. His cock slipped out of Harry as he moved, and Harry’s face scrunched up.

Draco must have looked concerned because Harry shook his head, “Just feels a bit weird, that’s all.” Draco waved his wand to clean them both up, “Thank you.” He curled up back on Harry’s chest, throwing his leg over Harry’s. He let out a shaky breath, “Draco? You alright?” Harry sounded concerned.

“Yeah.” Draco whispered, afraid his voice would shake.

“Draco?” Harry’s voice was so soft, it made Draco’s heart melt just that much more. The tears he hadn’t realized he was holding back spilled over and he turned away from Harry, “Draco.” Harry whispered, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Draco said a bit too loudly. Harry must have taken that as an excuse because he pulled Draco back to him, turning him over so they were face to face.

“Talk to me.” Harry said, pushing back Draco’s hair, “We don’t have to have sex if you’re not ready, we can scale back. Don’t feel like you have to—

“It’s not that.” Draco stopped him before he got on a role. Draco rubbed his face for a bit, wiping away tears, “I just—I never thought I’d have this.”

“This?”

“I never thought I’d be able to have sex again—enjoy sex ever again.” Draco confessed, wiping away more tears that sprang up, “Or talk to my partner about what happened. I just thought I’d be broken.”

“You’re not broken Draco.” Harry whispered, wrapping his arm around Draco and pulling him just that much closer to him on the bed.

“I thought this was something could never happen—so thank you.” Draco told him, trying not to look at his face. Harry leaned in and kissed him chastely.

“You know how I love to prove you wrong.” Harry grinned and Draco snorted. Harry kissed him once more, “I didn’t know if I could have this either. I thought—well—I thought because I couldn’t feel for Ginny, I was w-worried the w-war had broken my a-ability to h-have romantic re-relationships. Isaac helped me s-see it was just because she wasn’t right for me.”

“It’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not—but I am also grateful to be proven wrong.” Harry smiled, kissing him a bit. Draco felt warm all the way down to his toes and that he might just melt into a puddle, “We can prove every single one of those howlers wrong too.”

Draco squeezed Harry a bit, “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter! Just the epilogue. Can't believe it's finally here. This story was a bit more difficult to get out of me than usual, but I still love it. Let me know your thoughts :)


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's over! NOOO.

Draco couldn’t quite believe he was here. It had been eight months since he had graduated and his feet were finally buried in the sand at a Florida beach. He had taken Lindsey up on her offer of hosting him. Graduation into a job had been a bit of a whirlwind. Working for George had been nothing short of painful in the beginning. It was awkward, it was tense, and it was all around nerve wracking. Of course, Ron had been in the store as well. They avoided each other for the first month, but once the ice began to thaw on George it was only a matter of time.

Draco’s inventions had taken off, much to everyone’s surprise. Well, except for Harry’s. Draco had his own little section of the store, designated to fine jewelry. And he was also a big help to George’s other inventions. While Draco wasn’t too creative about ideas, he was at figuring out how to implement George's. George and Draco worked together on a few projects that were flying off the shelves.

The first thing they worked together on was the Patented DayDream Charm. Draco fixed it so people wouldn’t drool, they’d sit up straight, and any question directed at them would force the dreamer to wake up after repeating the question. George found a fancy bottle of Ogden’s after the first week of sales and drank with Draco. After that, the tension eased considerably. It had been a slight scandal when the Prophet found out Draco was working there, but George spun it very well.

Ron was a different story. He wasn’t cruel, but he was extremely wary of Draco. His threats came soon after Draco started working there. Draco had expected the speech to be spiteful, but it ended up just sounding extremely protective of Harry. And that Draco couldn’t really begrudge him on. But even Ron admitted to seeing how much healthier Harry looked—how much happier.

Draco sort of lived at the Manor and sort of lived with Harry. He mostly stayed with Harry, but it was difficult to leave his mother behind. Harry didn’t seem to mind his flip flopping. And as Harry was traveling considerably for work, Draco liked having the option of staying in a house with someone in it. Harry loved his job, and it was perfect for him. He got to solve puzzles with just a dash of danger thrown into the mix. His training had been extensive, and it was difficult to be together often. But it was alright for both of them. They knew they had to focus on their career, and neither of them minded much coming second. Draco knew it wouldn’t be forever. Harry respected Draco’s ambition, as it rivaled his own desire to prove himself.

They still went to a mind Healer. Sometimes together to make sure they were both on the same page, and also separately to help themselves grow. Isaac’s gift for graduation was signing them up with a Mind Healer he recommended in London. It was a bit of an awkward transition to someone different, but Draco was grateful because now Isaac was just a friend. They saw each other regularly, Isaac telling hilarious stories about new Hogwarts student’s shenanigans. But they weren’t as crazy as Draco’s own stories, for which he was grateful.

“Don’t pick at it.” Lindsey said, smacking his hand. He had just been scratching the new tattoo he had gotten just yesterday.

“Wasn’t thinking.” Draco said with a smile.

“He’s beautiful.” Lindsey crooned at the dragon tattoo wrapped around the Dark Mark. It was an Antipodean Opaleye, its pearlescent scales giving off a sort of rainbow effect on Draco’s skin. He wanted something colorful next to the Dark Mark. Something he could stare at and be proud of—but also something a bit fierce. Because that’s who he was now—someone more than just his Dark Mark and some scars. The detail in the scales blended out his scars a bit, making them hard to notice. Of course he’d always have the ones on his other wrist too—maybe one day he’d get a tattoo on his right arm. But for right now he only wanted the one. The one that meant he was worth fighting for.

“Harry’s going to love it.” Lindsey teased.

“I hope all his insisting of getting tattoos wasn’t a joke.” Draco huffed, dropping his hands down onto the beach blanket.

“Harry loves you, of course he’ll love the tattoo. He’ll probably be so turned on by it, he’ll fuck you too.” Draco turned red, but couldn’t help but laugh. Over a month ago, Draco had rediscovered his love of bottoming. And he had been right that the first time he had acted like a complete ninny, but Harry was so patient and moved slow. From then he had turned into quite an addict. But Harry never pushed him, never asked. He waited until Draco was ready.

That was the first time Draco told Harry that he loved him. It was obvious that they loved each other, they just hadn’t quite said the words. And when he did, those words felt like everything and nothing. Everything because Harry made his insides turn to puddles, helped him feel comfortable in his own skin and helped him love himself. Nothing because _of course_ he loved Harry. It nearly didn’t need to be said. And Harry had said it back. His eyes sparkling at him so brightly Draco nearly needed sunglasses.

“He gets here tonight right?”

Draco nodded, “Sometime before midnight if everything goes well—he is taking an international portkey from Japan.”

“You know you’re both more than welcome to stay the week at my place. I know you’re staying tonight since he gets in late, but you really don’t have to get a hotel.”

“Thank you—and you know we’ll be over almost every day—but Harry and I haven’t seen each other in a month. We want our own space to retreat back to, alone time that isn’t bothering anyone.”

“I get it—you want to fuck each other for hours.”

“Lindsey!” Draco said with a laugh, “Maybe that.” He turned a bit red at the admission which made Lindsey giggle “Other things too!”

“Oh, I definitely need to know the kinky stuff you two are up to.”

Draco laughed, “We’re nineteen, I think we need some time to know where all our body parts are before we’re kinky.”

“You both are just late bloomers.”

“War does that.” Draco said, then frowned. Lindsey nudged his arm.

“You seem a lot happier—I hope that isn’t just an act.”

“No—I am happier. I love my job and Harry. My relationship with my Mum is better than it has been, and I don’t get spit on when I walk in Diagon Alley too often. This is a better life than I could have ever hoped for.”

“It’s ok to be frightened.” Lindsey whispered.

“What if it all goes away?”

“You’ll have more challenges ahead. As much as I’d love to promise smooth sailing forever—that’s not life. But you’ve handled so much Draco and come out the other side. You’ll be able to handle what comes at you next—you and Harry both will.”

“How many people stay together with someone they got together with at eighteen?”

“Well, around here that’s pretty common.” She smiled, “Lots of high school sweet hearts.”

“High school?”

“Muggle school until you’re eighteen.” She let out a breath, “Maybe not the best example, since some of those relationships are whack—but some of them are beautiful. Just like any relationship really. You’ll have to be patient with one another, communicate—but that’s any relationship.” She squeezed his hand, “There’s no such thing as knowing for _sure_. No one knows that—well, except maybe seers.” Draco rolled his eyes at that, he never put too much stock in seers.

Draco sighed, “Even Arithmancy won’t give me a solid answer.”

“No, but that’s sort of the point. No one has a solid answer, you just have the opportunity to keep choosing each other.”

“I want to feel like this forever.” Draco whispered.

Lindsey nudged his arm, “You’re going to look back at this and laugh one day, when you’re forty and have a couple of kids running around.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll say to yourself—I thought I loved him then. Love grows.”

“You sound like Harry—and _kids?_ Merlin’s beard.”

“You don’t want kids?”

“I—I don’t know! I’m nineteen!”

Lindsey laughed, “You have time.”

“My parents always wanted me to have kids. I pictured myself having one kid.” He looked down, “I was going to have to get married to a pureblood witch. One kid meant the minimum amount of contact.”

Lindsey wrapped her arm around him and pulled him close, “I’m glad you get Harry instead.”

Draco gave a weak laugh, “Me too.”

“Now come on—the sand is getting cold. We can eat some dinner, dessert, and then wait for the Chosen One.”

 

Draco wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but he was dancing with Lindsey in the living room. They had pushed one of the tables aside, and he was showing her how to waltz. It was a little ridiculous because they couldn’t stop laughing, which considering the amount of cocktails they drank it wasn’t surprising. Lindsey was a bartender before she became a full time baker, so she made a series of drinks that made Draco’s head spin in the best of ways.

“You can do it.” Draco encouraged.

“I cannot believe a boy is teaching me how to dance." She shook her head with a laugh and touched one of his strands of hair that was by her face, "Your hair is so blonde its practically translucent.”

“Hey!” Draco frowned, “I like my hair.”

“I know, I know—I’m sorry—Let me try again.” She was still laughing as she took up in Draco’s arms again.

“One-two-three.” Draco started again. Lindsey put on her serious face as they tried again. She _was_ actually getting better at it. They moved gracefully around the living room, Draco attempted a spin that she easily spun into his arms again.

“You better take Lindsey to all the ministry events, because I sure as hell can’t dance that well.” Draco’s insides did summersaults.

“Harry!” Lindsey abandoned Draco to hug him. She kissed his cheeks, “Don’t you look handsome.” He did look handsome. At nineteen Draco struggled to grow any facial hair, and yet here Harry was with a nicely trimmed beard. Harry had his curse breaking robes draped over his travel bag and was wearing his “comfy” jeans and a black t-shirt.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to show up.” Draco said with a frown but easily stepped into his grasp and gave him a kiss.

“Now you have to be hungry.” Lindsey declared, still holding Harry’s other arm, “Food, then you can sleep.”

Draco had requested Indian food for Harry’s arrival, knowing Harry liked to have comfort food after traveling. Lindsey hadn’t tried some of the spices before, so the two had a good time experimenting in the kitchen trying to make Tikka Masala. Their first attempt had been a little over done and not spicy enough, erring on the side of caution. The second attempt was for tonight, and Draco thought it was perfect—for Harry. It was a bit too spicy for Draco, but he knew how much Harry liked heat. They gathered around Lindsey’s too small kitchen table and ate. Draco had his foot hooked around Harry’s ankle as they laughed, eating with naan. Harry insisted they eat with their hands, which didn’t surprise Draco at all. Lindsey and Harry teased Draco on being plebeian as he scooped up tikka masala and rice with his naan. Draco couldn’t stop laughing, couldn’t stop smiling.

It was a little past two by the time Harry curled in bed with Draco, sticky and satiated. It was a small bed so they were nearly on top of each other, but Draco didn’t mind at all. Their legs were tangled up together and Draco’s left arm was thrown across Harry’s torso.

“You got a tattoo.” Harry said with a grin.

“I had to do something while you were on an adventure.” Draco murmured into his chest, turning to look up at him.

“Can I see it?” Harry asked. Draco lifted his arm and held it up. Harry gently took his wrist, his finger tracing over the dragon and through the Dark Mark. Draco tried not to flinch when Harry touched it, but it was difficult. Harry kissed the dragon, then kissed the Dark Mark.

“Don’t.” Draco tried to pull his arm away.

“I love all of you, each bit.” Harry swore.

“It’s not some weird Dark Mark fetish?” Draco asked, and Harry laughed, pulling Draco close.

“No—it’s a _you_ fetish.”

Draco smiled, pressing his lips against Harry’s, “I guess I’m ok with that.” Harry threaded his fingers through Draco’s hair and another hand over his bare arse, pulling him even closer, “Ow.” Draco complained.

“Sorry, I was a bit rough.” Harry didn’t sound sorry at all.

“Just watch the hands tough guy.” Draco snorted, laying his head on the pillow next to Harry but staying close.

“You would have loved Japan Draco. The magic there is incredible.” Harry said, rubbing Draco’s back.

“We should add it to the ever-expanding list of places I need to see with you.” Draco murmured.

“Do you get annoyed with that?” Harry asked.

“No.” Draco looked at him, “I like that you want me there.” Harry wiggled a bit so they were looking at each other level on the pillow.

“I always want you there.”

“Well—I have been talking to George.” Draco admitted, “My work doesn’t necessarily require me to come to the office all the time. I might not be able to go on every trip—but I could join you on some. Obviously not when you’re working the case, but I could be there during the down time.”

“Really?” Harry asked, his face lit up, “I would love that.”

“Maybe we could take a few cooking classes around the world.” Draco suggested. Harry’s eyes sparkled, making Draco feel warm to his toes. He leaned forward and kissed Draco.

“But I’m glad to take this vacation with you.” Harry confessed, “Feels like we haven’t had time to ourselves in forever.”

“It’s easy to get distracted once you’re home—trying to catch up with everyone and some of the things you can only get done while you’re in London.”

“You know you’re the most important thing on the list of things I am excited to come home for—right?” Harry asked.

“Yes.” Draco said with a smile, “Never hurts to hear too, but yes I do.” Draco kissed Harry’s hands, “You’re the most important thing on my list too.” Draco snuggled closer, lying on Harry’s chest and draping his arm back over Harry’s chest.

“We should really send Lindsey a gift once we’re home.” Harry said. Draco hummed his affirmation, “She’s sort of the reason we got together you know.”

“And your panic attacks deserve a gift too. If you hadn’t run to the bathroom before break, I would have spent the whole time avoiding you.”

Harry laughed, “What an odd thing to be thankful for.”

It was quiet for a few moments. Draco could hear the low sound of the ocean just a few meters away. Harry’s breathing was making Draco’s eyes droop.

“I can’t wait for our future.” Harry murmured sleepily.

“Why?” Draco asked.

“I love you so much now—but I know I’m going to love you even more down the road.”

“What do you picture us like?” Draco asked, his breath caught in his chest a bit.

“Hm,” Harry rubbed his back, “I see you owning your own shop, eventually. It’d be a small place in Diagon with a great reputation for fine jewelry and protection. But it will have a mellow vibe, so everyone feels welcome. I’ll eventually settle down where I’m not traveling as much, maybe taking a job with the ministry. We’ll have a bunch of kids that love Quidditch too much and are entirely too competitive.” Draco snorted at that.

“How many kids?” Draco asked, his entire body tingling.

“Three? Four? At most five. Everyone will think you’re the strict parent, but you’re secretly the softy.”

Draco laughed, “What else?”

“I picture your Mum there, helping out with the kids. And she’ll disapprove of some things, but she’ll love all of us with her whole heart. I think eventually we can get her and Andy in the same room. I picture birthday celebrations where our kids get entirely too many presents, because you’ll want to spoil them and I won’t stop you. I see a Christmas years from now with our whole family there—our kids, your Mum, Teddy and Andy all eating a breakfast we made together. We’ll probably be exhausted, but happy.”

Draco squeezed Harry’s side, his heart fluttering so intensely that he thought he might get sick. He burrowed into Harry’s shoulder, his throat burning from keeping back tears.

“What do you picture?” Harry asked, his hands rubbing along Draco’s back.

“You with a beard—maybe long hair too. Kinda like Bill.”

“Will I have a fang earring too?”

Draco smiled, “No, but you’ll look as bad ass as him.”

Harry chuckled and Draco felt his chest move up and down, “What else?”

“I don’t know—I get scared to think about it sometimes. I’m so happy now and what if—

“It all goes to shit?” Harry finished for him, “It won’t always be this happy, but we will get through it. We’ll work for it every day.”

“And if not we can always tell our therapist and have her work it out for us.”

Harry laughed, gathering him close and kissing Draco’s forehead, then his lips, “I think I’m willing put the work in to keep you Draco Malfoy.”

“Me too.” Draco kissed Harry’s lips, lingering for a bit too long and kissing him once more before pulling back. He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, messing it up more than it already was, “Always.”

“Always.” Harry replied with a smile, kissing Draco until the sun came up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me as I cry into my ice cream. Come say hi on Tumblr! Caedes12

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr! I like friends. [Caedes12](https://caedes12.tumblr.com/)


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